Sitting Up by Philip Pompetti

            I was sitting up in bed one morning,

it may or may not have been gray outside,

yet there was a warmth I had never felt,

permeating my room like a brazier

that might heat a king’s vast and jolly hall.

I immediately knew the source of

this heat as it resonated from my

right side, and like a blanket slowly pulled

itself over me to wrap around my

body almost a little too tightly.

The chill, the awful chill of the morning

outside my window soon meant nothing, no,

with this blanket like heat covering me

I was safe from the freeze yet to arrive.

For this I can only be so grateful.

As I slowly turned to face this great source

I thought it might be hard to look away,

So instead I moved to pull the source close

and was met with the prize of my good work

looking directly up into my eyes.

Never before have I seen such a sight,

and at that moment I knew that I must

force myself to look away from this thing.

yet this would be easier said than done

and I lost myself in that source’s heat.

Never to be seen again I wandered,

the journey ahead never very clear.

Still, it is a good kind of wandering,

A kind that’s only shared with another;

One that can warm your room like a brazier.