To The Night

She'd confess her feelings to the night,
pretending it was the embodiment
of the one she hoped to call her own.
Curled up into her sheets,
she allowed herself the comfort and security
of imagining his arms around her,
his breath in her hair,
his chuckles escaping the sweetest lips
as she would softly babble in her sleep.
She'd tell him one day, that when she retired,
she'd sleep with the night, nestled in his arms,
with a quilt of a starry sky, embroidered by the moon.
She'd wonder if this, his kindness, his acceptance,
his comfort, this... if this was love.

-lj
29 January 2018