A little poem I wrote.
The yielding sofa cradles me while
Canned laughter crackles,
Flush light flickers.
You hand me a blanket
And the soft material warms between my toes.
A shadow strokes the wall as a car passes
Casting the wind a pliant chord and
Leaving silent as before,
Cadence forgotten in passing.
Our tiny home, protective and breathing
Against a backdrop of infinity, and
We in refuge of painless accord;
To be around you is enough.