love and holidays

i could have let the days rot
like apples in the fall sun

let the winter be as cold
as icicles pressed up against
a bare face

or i could warm the world
with my kisses
plant a kiss on your forehead
hold your chilly hand
walk next to you
and mix fresh apples
quickly with cinnamon
and butter into a
Thanksgiving pie

even on the days
when I wonder why I try
I know I'd always
rather have the pie

and we, as two souls
who barely get along
run together like the melody
of a song
lot's of i'm sorry's
and I was wrong

but in the end
we always bend
because we do know why
we always try

we'd rather our apples
in a pie