Author Information
----(4/24/04)
The furnace is out
the wind howls furiously at my window
my arms rubbing to warm themselves
under blankets that never seem to keep still.
The light flickers on and on
the cold ringing drowns lout
the humming of my heart
that tells a story unheard.
I cling together broken pictures
and memories of better days
days when you would bring me flowers
that would die while we slept for hours.
