Storms

The candles are lit. The windows are open. It is raining, a thunderstorm rolls across the sky. The soft sound of the rain on the grass, on the windowpain and on the cement patio outside fill my bedroom. Norah Jones Plays softly on my old stereo. Every now and then the sound of windchimes can beheard if you listen closely. There is wine in a glass sitting on the nightstand by the bed. It is the perfect end to the day.

I love to fall asleep to the sound fo the rain, the sound of thunder off in the distance.

“And I want to wake up with the rain failling on a tine roof, while I’m safe in your arms. All I ask of you is come away with me in the night.”

Oh, how wonderful that would be. To fall alseep wrapped in the warmth of him. The smell of him. The all of him. To be enveloped in his kiss, his eyes, his presence. To feel his breath, once again, on my skin. To listen to his heartbeat as I fall asleep on his chest. Would be wonderful.

But he is a memory going years back. And so I snuggle down in the covers, listen to the rain, listen to Norah, close my eyes and remember. And genlty fall alseep.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s