yesterdays, passed

sleep came and went,
in and out, dreaming,
for both of us;
needing rest perhaps less
than not wanting
to sacrifice
any moments
to eyelids closed,
or voices not speaking,
or hands not entwined;
and then Your hand
found me,
as my hand found You,
and the rapture
that ensued
was imbued
with more than
simple ecstasy,
more than
You and me,
something that
will always
echo, long after
today's shadows
are
yesterdays, passed.



September 25, 2009, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.