Alone, I stood in the doorway,
facing the disquieting room
way past visiting hours.
He lay there, silent as always
unconscious and very still.
I walked over to him placing my hand on his chest
to feel his heart beat.
I watched him intensely
as I sat down on the foot of the bed.

The shadowy presence at the back of my mind
led me to some confusion,
and I didn't know how to feel.
I found that the bed was wet with tears
that I hadn't meant to shed.
It was the first time I cried in three long years.
But I promised him that I wouldn't
so I quickly wiped my tears and
indulged myself in the satisfaction
that I could get by.

A blissful gloom shrouded everything
that had disturbed me and
I smiled at the thought of him
waking up.
I imagined his big, green eyes
stare back into mine
and it was then, that I felt alive.

The nurse came in and saw me
with a look that displayed confusion;
I was not supposed to be there.
My efforts to explain my presence
dissolved into desiring gestures
and she understood me
without me saying a word.
She pointed to the blankets that were
on the couch beside his bed,
and then quietly left the room.

I walked over and took the blankets
with certainty that this wasn't a mistake.
The night loomed ahead with silence
and soon darkness shielded
the walls around us.
I flung myself on the inviting bed.

Laying down beside him,
I gently closed my eyes..