I watch the bright world framed
between the triangle of your naked knees,
two sharp hills that I have peaked
so many times before.

The cold blue sky, the white
blaring sun so close to heaven,
the ice snow-coned up against the curb
glistening like lard against it all.

Your slight hand, so honest, rests on my
bare chest without a doubt of ownership.
I remember how foreign you were
that summer in Santa Barbara,

playing house along the Pacific.
Your once tentative smile replaced
with belly laughter, with wind flossing
through the naked Colorado trees.

You never truly know a man,
even when he knows your insides
like he knows his own. But that is hard
to say now. Instead I listen to you laugh,

listen to the t.v. a room away
tell me of what is to come of an
already passing day, listen to the
familiar sound of hardened ice
crack and melt under pressure.

Does 'volver' refer to the verb?

I wonder why you chose Volver, is this from Spanish come back?

besides that an interesting write, making me wonder about a place, a woman, mountains, snow. I liked the cadence in the words and the spontaneity of them.

yes you are both correct.