Come to bed, baby
and touching his arm he stirred,
half asleep from the fatigue of battle
and half awake from the chill of the room.
He moved with her and rested on the pillow of her body
till tenderness overtook him and he slept the sleep
not afforded to those who wage war and other such nonsense.
He was her captain and she was his whore and champion,
standing watch and praying for an end to it all. – pn
art: martin stone