For A

I watch the train curve around 

The bend, my feet almost trot on 

A reflex, the steel rails brace me 

To turn icy and shake it off,

Another tradition, for me.

For us.

I will clean my room with 

Headphones on, I will even hum

To myself, I will stop and reminisce

At every cookie crumb and sweater

Another tradition, for me.

For us.

I will wear my noisy boots and

Walk alone through polished halls

The cello and piano will not quite

Startle me, not without your whispers.

Another tradition, for me.

For us.

It is easy, I know, to move weightlessly 

Alone, ghost towns do that to you, how

When you finally decide you are ready to

Roll the window up, the sun has set already.

Another tradition, for me.

For us.

I have an eye and an ear for pretty things

For inky skies and loud lovemaking, 

I miss it though, us thinking the same things 

At the same time, not having to speak.

Another tradition, for me.

For just us.