A Childhood
First snow had fallen.
Inside, cross-legged on the bare wood floor
We faced one another.
Wrapped in warm blankets
We talked all night.
There was no lamp. The moon
Filled the window and flooded the cold room
Moving slowly around the walls
And away by daybreak.
In half a century
I have been equally happy
Maybe five times.
You turned twelve in December.
I did not know why I wept all spring
Or what I longed for.