Warm,
Bliss filled clouds of love
Surround me.

I dread
Our inevitable breakup
Once more.

Part of me knows
I should depart
quickly.

The latter;
Rolls over and tries
To enjoy the last

Moments in a
Pocket of
Toasty goodness.

At a snail’s pace,
I crawl out
Of my sanctuary.

My feet
Absorb the temperature
Of winters frigid breathe.

I hurry
through my daily tasks. One
Thing left to do.

Scurry back
To the  laundered
Warmth of my bed.

Try to enjoy
The last remnants
Of its former glory.

It attempts
Its Monday morning best
To radiate back
To life.

Sarah, why do I feel
A complicated nostalgia there
In the warmth, and household aroma?

A mothers’ absent
Binding hugs, replaced
By downy feathers?

Because it has always been
a battle of cold and heat,
Attempting to take foothold.