After I fed us
we both fell asleep
before we intended to –
you, by the fire, letting your book drop –
I watched the twitch of your folded hands,
the nod of your head, wondering
if this was an effort at meditation

Then I woke up with a start,
also having nodded in my chair  –
my page still blank,
the fire almost out

One more piece of wood
for the stove, one more
cup of tea,
the single flame, like me,
probably unable to keep burning
till the wood is gone.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 15, 2021