Talking in bed ought to be easiest,
Lying together there goes back so far,
An emblem of two people being honest.
Yet more and more time passes silently.
Outside, the wind's incomplete
Builds and disperses clouds in the sky,
And dark towns heap up on the horizon.
None of this cares for us.
Nothing shows
At this unique distance from
It becomes still more difficult to
Words at once true and kind,
Or not untrue and not unkind.
