Warm Feet

He mumbles.

Mumble mumble mumble mumble ...

I only hear

Every other seventh word he says,

But it’s clear to me 

That he’s inviting me

To come and mumble

Humbly with him

In his bed.

Under the cover of bedspread and sheet,

And under the mysterious wonder

Of whatever the rest of what his mumbling means,

But for me, it is just his feet I hear,

Telling me how warm they are,

And how they would never be cold

When it comes to me.

-jenn