winter gray boasts brightly 

through the shutter gaps.

not yet

.

i can feel you dreaming

when your head weighs heavier  

on mine,

as fingers loosen their grip

pinky, ring, middle.

not yet

.

barely sleeping,

adrenaline reverie 

spikes with each soft breath / 

light graze of your shifting hands.

not yet 

.

because if it is time 

how can i keep studying

your eyebrow cowlicks,

count your ribs,

fall into cast shadows

across your face

.

winter gray used to swallow me, 

a solemn, endless bubble.

if this is my new winter gray,

i hope it visits even in summer 

(3/2/25)