dawn dish soap can't wash everything away

it's fall now while i look down at the ground.
and i imagined the streets and walks covered in snow.
as if it was as then, maybe two to three years ago.
i remember breathing crisp, healthy air.

we had stepped outside for a cool winter smoke,
shaking and shivering, embracing the cold.
something about bricks,
something about matches.

i can only remember where, but never why.
I can't remember getting there, or the reasoning.
but i remember you exhaling little ghosts,
wondering if it was your smoke or that ice bitter cold.

(and finally)
driving through the rain, with my window down,
the rain graces my face, and reminds me there's more to feel.
How did i miss this! to be so disconnected.
and now i never want this again,
too fade away.

like your smoke did,
too many years ago.
Written by Harold-Weathervein (Levi Braathen)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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