it all began with a spine,
when you, with the softness of a flower petal,
ran your fingertips down my back,
and my insides whirred like a cold stack of falling dominoes.
we watched the early morning fog net together
with the sun and
bust its way out of the stronghold of the heavy, winter clouds.
it’s light fell through the cracks of tree branches and
split into pyramids of golden sheen,
like shining light through perspex.
we watched it all from the window,
we watched it all from the door,
we watched it rain, we watched it snow,
we watched as time froze cold.
and in summer, full of burned sausages and
pink skies, and waiting for the post to arrive,
the doorframes stood to attention like soldiers,
framing our love
like freshly painted portraits hung in galleries,
where our feet tread the same rooms,
walking new paths.