Blues

I stepped
outside today, the iced-over world
frozen hard,
and cried for a moment or two
on the shivering wooden boards of the front porch.
And I spoke to you,
my breath mist and my voice watery,
I asked you what you thought you were doing,
and if you were mean or just
scared.
I asked you so many questions and
you didn't answer.
Not a sound, only
the dripping roof and the dripping eyes and
somewhere, far away, a silent sigh.