photo albums

a winter's pinch
of frost is what i
awaken to, the blanket
too thin, the heat
too low this night
in november. but
it's fine when my
feet hit the cold wood
and feel this
new season. and as
i bend down to get
my shoes i see the
photo albums still
on the floor, beneath
the bed, where we
left them so long
ago, when summer
was still on, and
we were wet with a
sultry smooth sweat
from making love.
i'll put them back
onto the shelf
tomorrow, and you.