By Gala
Date: 24 November 2000
Calm At The Ridge
Rain on the roof,
makes the loft feel snug
safe
and serene.
You sleep deeply
your hair touseled like a sleeping boy
your face sweet with a special dream.
I listen to the rain nestled against you
and wonder at the calm,
enjoy the still.
But I am awake,
roll out gently and pad downstairs
make a pot of coffee,
and watch the raindrops
play whoppee tag across the glass.
There's just a touch of wind---
but it's outside
and you banked the embers the night before
so I need only add a log or two,
and in no time it's blazing warm.
The coffee done I pour a cup,
and curl up by the fire
like a lazy cat.
Time for a love letter.
So I get the writing case,
my Mont Blanc fountain pen,
and start to write to you
my sleeping love.
I write about this day,
bound to be a soaker
and how it feels to wake beside you.
I tell you that I almost had a bad dream,
but that at that moment
your arms closed around my waist
and hauled me close and cozy
and that dream took off---
I ask you if you know
what your love has meant,
or if you understand
why I almost shake sometimes
when I look in your eyes
to say I love you.
And I tell you that you are my blessing,
clear near and dear
then start to wonder
how long you will sleep
or how long I'll let you.
I head up for the loft,
telling myself that you would hate to miss
the raindrops playing whoppee tag,
the warm of the fire,
or any of the small pleasures
bound to come
on such a lazy calm day on the Ridge.
Wake up, sleepyhead...
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