When late at night I limp to my den,

Beat and bewildered from a long day’s work,

I can think only of the comfort of your embrace,

My nocturnal sanctuary of heavenly proportions.

Lying snug in your arms, my mind rests

And gives itself over to the surety of the senses:

My fingers tracing gently over your soft skin,

My body warming to your heat,

My heart beating to the gentle pulse of your own.

The bed becomes my island,

Ever distant from reality’s shore,

And I anchor myself in your solidness,

Your arms my shield from the morrow.