Poetry Blog by Tom (2018, fatherhood)

The Wind Is Howling

In the grate, the shivering flames
hungrily wrap their lips around logs
The boards above me creek
my wife haunting somewhere
the baby's hands reach out
wave before its sleeping eyes

The wind is howling...

The smiles on our faces as we galloped down the aisle
making sense of scattered photograph moments
but I can't remember why
can't think of anything but waiting
and doing everything...

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