We sat by the fire and you put your bare foot in my lap.
I was looking out the window, lost somewhen,
then whisked back by the slenderest of ankles.
I came later, to find you asleep, naked, on your stomach,
Red curls spread across the pillow. I
uttered a silent, joyful, primal prayer,
and we were moving, oblivious, as of old.
Then you were ripped away.
I rose, anguished, from sleep.
You faded the way dreams do,
and never were, never will be. Gone,
all but an impression of the slenderest of ankles
and the ticking of the clock.