The Nurse

One pale day when I will be all sad and dejected, disappointed by life. Sitting by the window with my head perched on the table looking out at the rain and the dark grey desolate sky. I would be lost somewhere in the melancholy of it. And then you would come. Sit by my side and not say a word. Without breaking the silence, without ruining the sanctity of the moment, you would just sit by my side. And bring your head by mine. You would look at me warmly with the intensity of those eyes, your hazel eyes swirling with molten honey. And gently you will bring your scented fingers to my hair. And you will stroke them. You will stroke them with all the love you have ever known. You will run those slender fingers between those glossy black hairs as if you waited a lifetime for this moment. And your soft pores will absorb all the pain and sorrow. And I would just sit quietly, close my eyes and let you be the healer, let you be the nurse. Let you wrap yourself around me like a child. Let you be the balm I have waited for eternity. I’ll let you soothe me, comfort me, nurse me back me to health. Let you caress all my wounds. Let you be that coat in the cold. And in that moment I know I will be fine, I will be good. I will be healed, all my pain gone all the sorrow whisked away, all my pangs dissolved, all my sadness vanishing into thin air.