Later
when the storm had left
she dressed.
I pressed her close to me
held her tenderly
whispered ,
love in her ear.

She is the ink that could think up the words in my quill
her will is my will
she is the filler of reservoirs
my ship to the stars.
my escape from those nights when sat alone in some bar having drunk just enough to anaesthetise would set my eyes on some lass
make a pass
then pass out to wake in the boat house or outhouse sometimes even worse places
pulling faces at foolishness
going home to undress and to wash off the shame.

Until she came I was drowning in dried seas
and nothing could please me
she changed that
cleaned my flat
washed me and carefree
I wait patiently when she's gone
for her return
where I can burn
in her fire.