Of Iron

At the end, I gave it less than a twenty percent chance. Less than the chance of rain the following day. Of your phone going to voicemail when I call. The night of wonderful conversation, great food and shared love. A bright percent sign hung around us in the air like snow on Christmas. Facing the future in a moment. Recklessly throwing your life forward. Happy, excited, grateful and laughing. Goodnight, sweet moon, hold us tight.