The other night I was writing,
Wrestling with pain and frustration,
Pulling up fearsome images that had settled
in my soul like a hacking cold
Until I could find no more.
And then, emptied at 2am,
I found myself finally ready for sleep.
I turned off the light and felt my way up the stairs
and found that my daughter had fallen asleep in my bed.
A couple of books lay where I wanted to be.
I'm sorry, I whispered, as I turned on the light to moved things.
I love you too, she said from her faraway dreamworld.
What? What did you say? I asked.
I wanted to hear it again, now that I was really listening.
But it had gone, as easily as it had come.