I wake up in the night, our bed is an ocean, I feel starkly alone and reach out to feel your presence. An empty space, I panic, switch on the bedside light and call your name. You have been to the loo, ok, tell me not to fuzz, lie down and squeeze my hand. I switch off the bedside light and the night continues as you gently snore, it is your silence I fear. Dawn, I wake up and count the beams on the bedroom ceiling, eight, it’s always eight. And it worries me if I should live longer then you can only count seven bedroom beams.
