Like Ships

the night she arrived,
the wintered door suffered open on a shove and a gust
and her mother came trundling through with the flakes.
the room warmed and all of us huddled toward them
smiling and newly forgetful of our troubles.
we all noticed the question wrinkling her little face,
she saw all of us
and thought we looked too new,
that there should be others
more weathered than us
more nights tallied in the saddle than we had
she came from out there expecting grandpa not knowing
they'd just missed each other

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