In my dream, I snuggle in close,

She is my small spoon,

Her back resting softly against my chest,

I feel her every breath, her contented sigh.

I slip my arm around her,

And she draws it closer still,

Nestling into the hollow of my body,

As though she were born to rest there.

Outside, the night is chilly,

Our warmth makes even the cold envious,

Her curves nestled softly against mine,

Delicate and cloud-soft.

The way her body settles into mine,

As though we were cut from the same cloth,

Every gentle rise and fall,

Every subtle shift, perfectly in place.

Her skin, warm beneath my fingertips,

Her hair spilling softly across my arm,

A silken shadow that anchors me,

Our breathing falls into perfect time,

As though time has stood still,

Like the tide caressing a sleeping shore,

A summer's warmth enfolding us,

The soft, knowing touch of a lover.

The world beyond us fades,

The blankets gathered softly around us,

A peaceful stillness settles over us,

Warmth, soft as a first kiss.

I count the small sounds of her sleeping,

The way one counts stars,

Each breath, a whispered melody,

Each gentle stirring, a ballet.

She stirs, and the whole room leans in.

A murmur, a sound, almost a word

That could be my name,

And I decide it is.

So this is what the poets meant.

Not lightning, not the earthquake,

Just this: two quiet bodies

Keeping each other safe.

And when I wake, alone,

The warmth remains,

As though her arms still held me,

And somewhere in the quiet morning,

Loved.