I lie asleep,

curled in blissful slumber…

soft, warm,

yet cool at its heart.

I move closer,

the press of your arms

is one that is sweeter

than any I will know.

I reflect on pasts

that will not exist,

save for the moment of joy

captured in memory,

like a breeze

that is caught before the storm.

The wind hurls its force outside,

its face against the window

as I unwillingly

awaken,

grieving

for the storm

that is more tangible

than the breeze.