There is a study and sunroom
at the center of the busy roundabout in my mind
where I am struggling to concentrate
There is an itch on my scalp that I can’t scratch
because I clenched my hands
into fistfuls of our last time together
This was long ago
each hand is aglow now
and showing which way to go
I am out walking for hours in your direction
even when the downpour is freezing
because my fingers never grow cold