Anecdotally Evident

Sleeping-Couple-Stylized

After the Nightmare

Awake with a jolt at 3 a.m.

Thunderous roar of the dream in my ear,

A flat wall of black defeats my eye,

On my tongue the poison taste of fear.

Then a soft sigh from a bulwark made flesh,

He still sleeps, yet senses my distress.

A wandering hand blindly smooths my hair,

The other cups a breast,

He spoons my back,

Protects me with his bulk,

Wraps me in his slumber,

Until we share the rhythm of his sleep.

Paula Lyons, MD

3/23/2005