Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow: A sonata of words in four parts. Part II: teddy bear: a poem

Our backs against a tree,
she read aloud, to herself as much
as to me, and I listened.
Orange leaves (and brown and red)
carpeted the little hill.

"I feel cold," she said.
She looked at me, a wry grin
touching those rosy cheeks;
"I envy you — the chill doesn't
bother you, does it?"

Back inside the house,
I sat on the bed as she changed and brushed
her teeth. The lights out,
she gave me a quick squeeze and sighed.
I watched the ceiling all night.