Night Thoughts

Night Thoughts

I wake,
her hand resting on my bony shoulder
as though claiming ownership.
And why not? She is, after all,
my reason for living -
without her, I would be long gone.
She snores, a new note,
like an old Suzuki two stroke,
tearing the air with its strident call.
I speak a few words in conversational tone,
not prodding or shifting,
and she answers, an incoherent mumble.
But the snoring has gone,
just as she promised,
“Wake me up and I’ll stop,”
although I doubt she was really awake.
A few nights hence she asked if it bothered me,
that she crowded me in bed like this
(she is afraid that the bed will tip her
to the floor and she’ll not be able to rise),
and I reminded her of the times
when we’d fall asleep in each others’ arms.
No, my love,
it’s not crowding but touching,
being together as ever but older.
We always said, when all we had
was spirit and soul,
that touch was important too.


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