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