65. A Visitor.

Recumbent I flop, relaxed, in bliss,
Even though in this hell hole of shit.
Dreamy and drifting, my head slowly swirls,
Where you, the gentlest tornado, just passed through my world.
No whipped up gales, Only the sweet draught,
Wafted over me, all troubles surpassed.
My heart is touched,
Caressed by your words,
This broken body, nursed and cured.
The gift you share, generous, free,
Repairs my soul, it recreates me.
Almost to slumber, sedated, content,
Your love like a pillow,
On which to lament.

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