warm hands

You are like a rock of ice
you are a frozen block of
stone which I find cool
though

it is
said
by people
that you like to be alone.
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And I am a silly sort of disrespectful
willy-nilly
you are rough untreated canvas
or
bark
whereas I am frilly.

In the dark
when furniture starts to breathe
shoes prove
I
hold the feather chisel
wait. Time, wagging tongues and
tendencies lie still.
You move. Elaborate.