Kindness was meant to be simple
a dish of food, scratch of an ear,
the momentary, warm place
where blizzards were kept away from your sleep.
Now sidewalks blister from the equinox
and each day as I walk home, I listen for your cries
as you wait for me in the window.



Giving you up is the hardest,
even after walking those
finely trimmed sidewalks absent of voice,
and long minutes spent staring
at barren hands unable to touch.
Each path home still plunges me straight to you.
Eager. Hurried. Always
missing you is what remains
and this stone
offers your name
but never your forgiveness.