Languid, half asleep, in morning hours

I hear your voice…

Half-finished conversations

rushed conclusions

hasty goodbyes…

And I turn over …

again, searching for sleep –

wondering where dreams begin

only to end again… and why.

Thoughts blow like November winds

through my mind

prickling my skin

and bidding me dig deeper

into the covers to seek

my comfort there…

to find surcease from the black

loneliness that sometimes

threatens in the early morning hours

absent your voice…

I am treading water here..

riding the black waves of fear

and despair, trying

not to drown, but

to rise up on that current

and find my hope

my center

my self

and SWIM…

One day I will

hear a noise in the

dark and will not fear…

will not stop

*breathing*

to listen for

his footsteps…

but will, instead

pause, to hear

your voice calm me…

and listen for your lullaby..

my November wind…

whistling past the window…

lulling me to sleep…