If I had made this bed alone
There would be no scent of baby powder and spice.
There would be no looking both ways.
I would not have learned to roll the dice…twice.
If I had made this house, cedar and stain, log cabin frame, without its dame…I would still be dwelling in discord’s refrain.
…
In the morning, between the static and the reprieve, when it is easy to not believe…I ponder such vacant thoughts.
After all you have made me a vagabond to your ways.
Through routine I am grounded in the games we play.
…
Had I made this bed alone
pillows, solitary and too crisp.
I would have never fancied your kiss.
