I woke in the small hours <br />to find you <br />sitting at the foot of the bed <br />in our hotel room. <br />The window shutters <br />were latched in place <br />and a Mexican breeze <br />played in the cottonwood outside, <br />dancing on the face of the moon <br />and dappling you <br />in shadow and starlight. <br /> <br />I watched you for a long time. I never <br />asked why you couldn't sleep.<br /><br />Don McWilliams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-world-at-the-end-of-our-bed/
