we make our way home
after the storm
and talk to our families
on a multitude of singing cell phones
explain
how late we are
and how many hours we spent waiting
at the railroad stations in Skövde
or Hallsberg
for the trains to run as normal
we talk about the power outage on boxing day
how many hours it lasted
and how much fun we had
looking for matches and candles
and how we then chatted for hours
until our flickering faces made us drowsy
and that there was something there
tugging at us
pulling at someone in us
we didn't remember or recognise
someone rising east of a non-descript childhood
into a calendar year
marked with sticky crayons
on a chequered almanac
we miss you so much we say
and elaborate on how wonderful it will be
to be home again
that we didn't fully realise before
but get it now
and that we are coming to be with you
for forever
we think
in the conversational pauses
where we look out the windows
on trees speeding past in snowless greens
with the sun skipping bravely
over all the low branches
in the pauses
where the childs laughter fill the carriage
from having successfully drawn a turtle
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