All others now are fast asleep
and boarding trains towards their dreams.
But I’m still open-eyed and primed.
Blessed with peace and too with time.

Beneath the sheets, my torchlight scans
the beauty of my lady’s hand.
It slants and curls, ornately so.
Her scented page. The words enclosed.

The stairwell creaks. One wakes from rest!
I clutch her letter to my chest.
I flick the switch and see the black.
The heavy feet. The running tap…

but, with a groan, it slips away
back to its room, and hits the hay.
Beneath the sheets, my torchlight scans
the beauty of my lady’s hand.