The night is filled with warm steam; soft rain snow that clings to the light making puddles on the ground. My thoughts move in rhythm with the shoes crunching hard gravel. No more smiling, no more tears. Just beautiful, simple walking. Steam rising from my mouth like unbidden thoughts, floating in front of my eyes like long repressed memories.
A child clinging to her mothers hand.
A father asleep on the couch, his book rising up and down on his chest.
Furtive glances in the mirror before the dance.
Where am I hidden in my eyes?
Soft humming and a finger twisted in my curls.
Drunken voices echoing around me, reminding me of my unbelievable sobriety.


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