I wake sometimes and reach out to touch you, 

forget, in sleep, I'm all alone in bed.

I'm left to take pleasure from all this space,

this cool expanse of uncreased sheet instead

If we had not parted as enemies,

if your fear had not driven me away,

would you still be lying here, I wonder,

waiting for my touch to give you the ok?

I dream of your warm body sometimes,

I marvel at the way your sleep-slow stroke

helped me to drown in sensation and

rose to the occasion when you finally awoke.

I didn't really do you justice, did I, nor  

appreciate how often you gave me joy?

After all, back then, I was the Glory Girl

and you were just the back room boy.