Poetry by J. Sales
“Under Covers”
“As she slipped on the hardened snow, I whispered to
her, “I told you so.” She said, “You never said I would
slip on a bed of ice. You didn’t even know it was going
to snow tonight.” And I said, “No, but I told you I would
catch you if you ever fell.” And with a cold goodbye she
murmured, “I wish I had met you in summer. I am better
in summers. Winters are to recover from the loss of
lovers.” But I told her, “Winter is better together, under
the covers, with one another.”
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