the house was empty when they woke
the absence a tangible thing, a raw place
where a comfortable companionship

sat content last night between them
borrowing a bit the corner of her afghan,
reading unobtrusively over his shoulder

but it slipped out before the dawn, left
the length of the breakfast table longer,
two glasses of cold orange juice, apart

in silence, they pulled on shoes, light
jackets, went down to the beach, reset
the timing of their heartbeats

to the metronome of breaking waves
returned together to together

Laura M Kaminski
12 02 2014
in response to/inspired by “Ocean view

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