Imaginary lines chart our territories 

We try not to cross each other's path.

And yet when the night falls

Our bodies forget the decisions made last night

And find each other's warm feet under the comforter.

My heels touch your cuff muscles, 

fingers find their way under your shirt, 

work their magic on your stiff neck and back,

Your shoulders and arms stretch to reach out to mine.

The weather channel can no longer predict when there will be sun or rain,

A hail storm might just be followed by a sun drenched sky. 

I'll walk in the rain nonetheless breathing heavily with my long slow strides.

The view from the Hill gives me sanity, wisdom and strength

I can accept now the consequences of mudslides,

Casualties, beauty masks - any other angles or aspects.  

We've been too busy counting blames

while the conversations disappeared in thin air

This was probably the last breathe of fresh air we shared in the same space.