One Night

I fear my life was better before I knew you,
for then, I had no inkling of just how beautiful it could be,
and one black sock won’t let me forget you,
for I know that its partner is in a room where you breathe.

My own cowboy angel with such a soft touch,
well-paced wording spoken in your gentle low tone,
contented sleepyheads, snooze buttons pushed, arms enfolded,
how can I ever forget the tenderness of your hold?

We are not our jobs, our locations, or our ages,
these absurd common concepts are not our fault,
but their burden is far too heavy for us to carry,
or to let us ever figure a loving way out.

But that one sock still won’t let me forget you,
for it now holds the tears for you that I’ve cried.
I hold that treasure as I wish, against all sense of reason and logic,
for the day that those two socks are reunited, paired along with our lives.