January 16, 2016

Without a Sound


It's cold again,
through the night,
where under blankets
we keep warm.
In summer
we sleep naked
without a sheet,
thinking this
will be the norm,
the overhead fan
working overtime.
But now our eyes
grow ever more heavy,
just like loved ones 
in the ground.
Someone must
have put them there,
knowing they would
wait for us,
though they never
make a sound.