The other

If this is all I will ever have,
Then let me know soon enough,

But maybe, I don’t want to know.
The reason why the birds in the sassafras,
Grow silent before a storm.

Your stillness keeps me hanging on,
Like wood clothespins, caught on the swell of old rain soaked rope,
Strung between two poles, swaying in the back yard.
Waiting for long sleeve shirts and sailing sheets,
That toss and turn on the inside now,
since the dryer was fixed.

I still believe.
There is time to get home before the lightening strikes.
I want to keep you the way you were,
before I knew,
The way the air feels,
after it rains