Bleaching in the cold harsh brine
Is that red dress a favorite of mine
My house coat is a faded shade of blue
As am I through and through and through

In this gray drizzle on this long day
How easily to fall apart and fall away
Had I but a sweet someone to guarantee
To collect the pieces and pick up me

Night deepens and the last sound ceases
I ask again why would I fall to pieces
Just to prove that I am so very alone
Why ever would I let one see me prone

I know that on the wintry white morrow
No stoic arms by rights may I borrow
So my numb fingers to find each sliver
And to bear a cut with every shiver

The elusive cure to this enduring ache
Is but arms that hold me as I shake
And the firm words to reassure me
To promise me of a red dress spree
 

Written on Feb. 13, 2005.