Five o'clock this morning, and the wind was

Still warm. My head was buried in a book,

And with eyes shut, I breathed softly and asleep.

Add to this twelve hours, and it's raining again

And you're far more than a fair-weather friend.

I'd hide inside your shirt, like I did when

There was only a slight drizzle on the outside,

And falling trees and fusing transformers wouldn't

Scare me. I'd see you, only you and your smile

As you laugh into what's become our shirt.

This is what I want to cycle home to, not

Some waiting Vienna, but you. and because it's

Pouring, shapes become hazy, and you just

Might become me, two quite found, and sound,

Souls swimming in a very large t-shirt. And yes,

It's fading, it's old and over-sized. But for us,

It's perfect and warmer than any book or blanket.

I love you, you know.