I sit over tears at a kitchen counter,
dribbling into my wineglass with an uneven splash.
A winter’s chill brings opaque shadows
that dampen my hope.
Be here before evening to decorate, she promised.
Absent power from an outage,
a candle flickers before my folded hands,
praying she’ll return
with eyes for me and me alone.
I’m tone deaf to White Christmas
playing in her heart through her lips.
(© 2022 AC)
Drink Coffee Write 