Clouds
And you, in bed,
turning your back to me,
pushing me away,
even in sleep,
as I snuggle for warmth
and, above all, comfort.
Blankets don’t touch
the cold I feel,
deep in my body.
I reach for you,
but you’re locked
in your dreams.
A grunt or two,
a muffled snore,
a half-whistling sound,
sometimes, a cry.
Last night you
called out
“Help!”
I hauled you back
from some black pit
where sharp-clawed devils
reached out in your dreams
to snatch you from me.
Today it’s my turn
to call for help
as I face a horizon
filled with black clouds
that gather above me
refusing to disperse.
rogermoorepoet 
That is what love is, facing the darkness together.
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Indeed: the sunshine is so easy. The dark is so ominous and may be so terminal. “Shoulder to shoulder and blade to blade” — the tough times are never easy.
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Wise words Roger, those are the times that test and show what’s what.
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The calming hand and love that abounds in both directions…
You and Clare have a wonderful weekend, Roger!
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I can’t remember what real life event generated this poem.It’s funny how inter-dependent we are, though. And that’s how it should be. One more post tomorrow — the surprise selection — and then I’ll take a little break. Best wishes, Roger.
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I will check in tomorrow, Roger. I like surprises!
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