Waiting for the cold

He is standing at the foot of the stairs
waiting for her to finish her preparations,
the inevitable abundance of grooming
that precedes an evening out in public.
Her disdain for his longing
has left him folded into himself,
filled with angst and anticipation
of yet another rejection.
The harsh truth tumbling through his mind
is the realization there is no grace left in their union,
just a cold and distant companionship.
No love can be found here now, he thinks,
wondering if, truly, there ever had been love,
or if he had been deluded
by the passion of their couplings
into thinking the emotions overwhelming him
were love, not simply a biological excitement.
The ferocity of their love making long gone,
and frequency a thing of the distant past,
he is left with only her beauty
and benevolent disregard.
The inward focus of his vision clears
when she suddenly appears
fresh, beautiful as always
and floats down the stairway
like a cold winter wind.

Author's Note: Another "jigsaw" poem from words given to me by my brother-in-law Dale Smith. The words are: here, now, love, disdain, angst, anticipation, longing, abundance, grace, vision