Wet Socks
And I’ll lie on concrete floors
Gathering strength
To climb onto silk sheets
Thinking about dropped beats
Fight off the sleep deprivation
To circle the block, check the house and the yard
And I think of your handwriting and the lines on your face and trace your back like a map to the place
Where it’s warm and it’s dry and it’s safe
Tucked away
Every day
And maybe there’s more than we’re given
But when I just sit criss cross and listen
I’m Mary, daughter, John on a mission
Knowing what I’m meant to
Feeling like He felt too
I ran into you last week
It felt like wearing wet socks
I would’ve asked to come home
Just to dry off
I want your carpet between my toes
And the door on lock
I’d thaw by your fireplace
You would make tea
We don’t have to talk
We could just blink
I’d leave before sundown, it wouldn’t get bleak
We don’t have to talk
We don’t have to speak
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