Reverberation

this morning
this
        cold
morning, i thought
lessly slipped
                           my
hands into
                     your
gloves

the purple ones
do you remember?
the purple ones with that un
identifiable creature
stitched
across the tops
the purple ones with those in
finitesimal
spots
along the palms
do you?  can you?
remember

slipping, i felt your
fingers,
your chubby, chunky little
fingers,
always so cold
always so warm
squeezing so tightly
around mine

then they were gone

but
       you
stayed
as you do
as i thank the un
known, name
less
gods that you do

in the echo laughter
the imprinted smile
and the in
discernible
                     pulse
of
    your
blood
            in
mine

©s rogers 3 november 2010