That December
We spent sleeping together On Cape Cod
With plenty of snow and firewood
You would wake me early
To watch the storms From Race Point.
That December
When I taught you to paint, we wrote a thousand poems
Had cases of Bordeaux and the hot water never ended.
Threw the TV out the window, ripped out the phone
And I painted you with coloured Syrups for dessert.
That December
Which has lasted now through April –
That December.
