The shrill piercing ring accelerates
my pulse, my heart thumps
partially with longing.
-Mumbled sincerely you say.
The white crumpled sheet lifts,
from the purple-hue beneath eyes.
Darkness from the hallowing hour
of the night engulfs me.
The sound echoes into the corners
of my soul. Pulls me out of a quiet,
warm dream and back to reality.
My hand reaches to respond, but is
pulled back by yours.
Stay! Again, with a hopeful tone
you plee. But feeling your arms
beating life reminds me, clarifies
I must go.
My faded blue scrubs, religiously
laundered brush against my hip
where your hand just grazed.
The black, cold air sharpens my senses.
An icy path guided by the moon
brings me to my nocturnal homestead.
You are not forgotten.
I listen to a broken heart, it’s beat
so different from your steady music.
Finished with duty and purpose,
that this shared life, his mine and yours
has bestowed, I crumple.
Folded and content with fatigue, back
to your bed-warm hands.
I press my head close to hear the steady
lullaby, thumping in your chest.
You were not forgotten.
Image taken at Old Man of Storr, Isle of Skye, Scotland