at the end of our illicit affair,
i stopped to see you in your lair -
i was heading through the mountains,
and the treads on my tires were bare.
papers on sunday with coffee strong,
tussling under covers, none of it wrong -
sweeter for that, in our lives yet untold,
there was the sense it would soon be gone.
you sheltered me and gave me a floor
after so much pain gone just before -
you couldn’t know, and i never would spill,
our stolen riches denied we were poor.
i’ll never forget you standing in the door
as i drove off that night, into the storm -
strong enough to love me so,
and strong enough to let me go.