Some of Us

Standing in my boots, snowless at the Christmas door
before the sunrise, just after my day:
Starless from the city, the moon's shadow is brighter than the sky.
If it were more than a sliver as I pass the gate, then I'd say
that it would be blind the night.
I Rushed around the roads, yet settled into my home as I whistled.

Two things, I think as I pass the threshold:
A trust, and her mind's health.
The first wrecked by there being no strength.
She's exhausted; nearly run down.
Yet I'll put myself aside today
to reconcile what's now gone, and lay down by her side.
Because some of us just need some comfort
and some of us just need to be home.