On The Wind

Written by: Andrew Repenning

The cold November morning blows in on the face,
	a kiss of longing.
She pulls you in,
	"Be mine. Be mine."
She calls each bundled body by name.
There can be only this morning, this moment.
There can be only this busy street, these frozen slabs of sidewalk.
There is only the gray sky above 
	and the sweet perfume of a cold breeze.