His breath, it blew across my face, cool and sweet.
Every few hours the clocks would stop, flash, grow dark.
Time reset. Again. The winds surged, threatening more power lines,
but it was the black memories of the day that stole my sleep,
stopped me cold.
“I’ll catch the bad dreams,” he promised, as his hands tangled in
my hair, with feather light strokes, he spun a web I clung to,
and my mind cleared, despite the rain in the sky,
amidst the storms of life.
And the bellowing thunder rebelled in the sky,
resigned to just noise –
unable to shake our embrace.