This came from a set of prompts - both the title and the first line were the inspiration.
When the ice melts -
I come to you shyly,
eyes cast down like a young girl.
We don't ever have to say "I'm sorry."
The words hang in the air between us
like a thread slowly being stitched.
You sigh as I enter -
staring at you from the doorway,
blurry eyed and biting my bottom lip.
We never need to say the words.
Your footsteps on these hardwood floors
are the sound of absolution.
af july 2010
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