Sleep’s refuge

Like a clutter of spiders,
the cold crept over him,
probing old wounds,
prodding old pains.

He stirred; but half-awake
he searched the bed.
Touching nothing,
finding no one,
he remembered, shivered,
pulled the cover tighter,
and sought again
sleep’s refuge.

18 September 2012
Shire on the Hudson

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