The roof is dusted white
My first view of morning
Through the slant of the blinds
April showers, April flurries
April rains so wet my fingers
Go numb in the first mile of a run
The lake, a deep, pure blue
A promise
I used the days away to draw conclusions
That I question
Haven’t I already learned this lesson?
If I could only remember
I sip wine by the fire with my mother
Until I get too warm and have to go home
It’s a Monday
But I’m not ready for that
To mean something
Alice Grey escaped Chicago
Over a hundred years ago
To live alone on the shores of Lake Michigan
The locals called her Diana of the Dunes
In my mind, I see a solitary figure
Standing alone in the sand
Watching the waves lap, and crash, and freeze
If only we didn’t need each other so desperately
But we need each other — desperately
The roof is slick tonight, invisible in the dark
April showers, April nights
In the morning it will be Tuesday
But I’m not ready for that
To mean something
With Love,
Natalie