come spring

the birches,trembling as they remember
the snow, silver and gray

lonely wind, seeking shelter,
rattling this empty postbox

thoughts, of you: tumbling,
hurrying out of the cold

chill running down, lick,
bite, under my collar

flood rushing to my face.
you will not be so close, come spring.

going away

Let me smell you today,
as if the moment were to end.
your breath, humid,
languid, in my throat
it must last long enough
for my lips to approve.

i believe in always
when i am with you.