It is the hollow <br />of your shoulder blade <br />where I rest my head <br /> <br />safe <br />against your soft skin <br /> <br />curved <br />along the strength <br />of your backbone <br />that <br /> <br />I <br /> <br />m i s s <br /> <br />when you are <br /> <br />g o n e <br /> <br />my place of safety <br /> <br />my harbour <br />against <br />the storm of <br />the world <br /> <br />but <br />you are <br /> <br />g o n e <br /> <br />and I must <br />wait <br />for your <br />safe return.<br /><br />Diana Rosser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gone-461/
