My childhood was spent dreaming

of nights when I would not be alone. I am not

alone.

For her you lie, next to me

on this bed, my childhood

cares are tucked away,

burrowed like secrets beneath the sheets.

Beneath the sheets we do not crawl.

For you are warm and you warm my feet,

the feet that without socks,

without the scolding of my mother

are cold.

My hand holds yours.

It feels like the light

that used to guide me

as I read beneath the sheets.

My hand slides beneath your shirt

touches the hairs that make you

warm.

Touches the hairs that make me

smile.

Warmth welcomes me, I kiss your

hair.

There are times when I forget

why are you are with me here.

I recall your smiling face

beaming

from a dream somewhere.