There have been holes.
Holes in the wall.
Holes to the sky.
Blankets for caressing.
Blankets in which, I could collect my cares.
But within the secrets of dim light…
Somewhere between the darkest hours and fitful sleep.
I am consigned to the sounds.
The sounds of my home, at night.
The purr of a well-loved cat.
The snore of a well-fed dog.
The hum of winter’s heat.
The vibration of a distant car as it moves along.
The echo of love…as it takes a seat.
I have learned, slowly, to appreciate these subtle nuances.
As though, they were…a midnight rendezvous.
Pondering on static.
Listening for surround sounds to…eke through.
With a twist and a muffled turn.
I lay my hand on my lover’s side.
The repetition of her breathing consoles me.
It is in these faint moments…
My loving home confides.