After The Rain

Just hours ago, we tangled close, A whisper wrapped in fleece and skin, The storm tap-tapped upon the glass, But couldn’t find a way within. Your breath was heat, your arms the sun, A hearth where winter dared not tread, And though the thunder rolled outside, Inside, we melted fear instead. Now rain still drums with colder hands, And you are gone — not far, just gone, The echoes of your touch still hum Through threads I lay my ache upon. It’s strange how minutes stretch like years When warmth departs and chill remains, I miss you like the sky misses Its moon between the clouds and rain. I press my palms to where you lay, Still tender from your gentle stay — How can I miss you this much when You only just slipped hours away?