Fan

Still --
you mourn for summer      
cold blades    
gathering dust      
as I stretch before the fire      
atlas open    
to help with dreams      
of dolphins  
and balmy seas      
      
I am too dull    
or too lazy        
to drag you to the loft      
and rest you carefully    
amongst memorabilia      
though since September      
not once  
did you earn your keep      
      
Now with ice packed thick  
on the river     
how long ago it seems      
we craved for cubes in drinks
sitting gladdened by your  
spin