promises

red tea
window stain
disarray
regret
last nights’
warmth
for this
shallow breathing
like steam
rises
from blood
escapes the
red confines
of this room
fog congeals
on night’s
winter panes
etched
a new face
closer to home
that promises
space
always behind
what lies
before you
the quickening
breath
heartbeat footsteps
crescent light
long shadows
a tree passes
the porch light
ignored
still shines
the old lady
inside
thought best
and withdrew
from the scene
as lighthouse
promises
morning rain.

Fog

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