That night we fell asleep
to the sound of soft thunder
and the crash of quiet droplets
on the sheet metal porch

sheets wrapped us up in each other
and blankets held me to you
over the rain I breathed in your hair
over your breathing I held in my heart

you smelled the colour of your toothpaste
your laundry detergent and soap
dissolved me, slipping through my senses
as we stumbled between now and dreams

my arm laced gently through your t-shirt
the grey one you always wore to bed
while your fingers traced a silent code
in the ringlets above my ear

we should grow old together
you spoke with half words through the pillow
let's I mumbled or was certain I'd said
and I'd have smiled if my lips were awake

it's the night I tell you about
every time you ask me to detail
a night I distinctly remember

I don't have the heart to tell you
it's a night I'm beginning to forget

let's I mumbled with a sleepy grin
and you whispered oh, we did.