The Winters Here Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I will write another line as a salute to you—abandoned
Muse—where are you now,
But across from here, missing your weekend boy as you
Miss a new car:
You have lost both and I am married:
Your man rides you like a spark—sharp wheel
That turned with you out from Mexico—
What kind of utility you keep together I cannot know:
I only had to bring you one Christmas tree
Before it was time for life to move on.
And when it doesn't snow in the winters here
You do not feel so far away.