The house is cool at last.
I turn down the volume on the TV
so as not to disturb you.
I watch the ceiling fan slowly revolving…
‘Allie? ’
‘I’m out here, my love.’
‘When are you coming to bed? ’
‘Soon, sweetheart.'
At ten thirty,
I turn off the fan
and climb in beside you.
You are musty warm and purring
with your feet sticking out.
I close my eyes
and drift off.
Suddenly you snap on the light!
‘Allie! Allie!
There’s something the matter with this pillow? ’
I pretend to be asleep,
trying hard not to react.
Remembering what it felt like
to be small and afraid of the dark.
Then dawn opens her eyes
and you slip your hand
between my legs -
and the child of last night
becomes the man
I fell in love with forty five years ago.
Alison Cassidy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/night-child/
