Love

He came over one night
looking for sex
in familiar surroundings
plundering the dregs
of an aching heart

Sex, I said, is making love,
while in the streets below
the strains of a car
slowly die
into soft eloquent silence.

When the cold wind,
rattling the windows while
it rains in the mountains,
slowly blows out every candle
fighting the dusk

Of you, worshipping my body
and I, worshipping your soul
With all resentments forgotten
and no fears cradled

Only memory upon memory
of damp sheets
wrapped around our aching bodies
and the steady sound
of your breathing...