Dark Mild Poem by Ann Dunford

In the small hours
Imperfectly sharp images of our meeting
Slowly surface through sleep
Bursting the fragile meniscus of equilibrium.
Endless review ascribes significance
To the merest trifle and
Finds complicity in its absence.

“Boo! ”, you said and I smiled (well, grinned)
Comfortably familiar we sat together, apart.
And I recall with such fond clarity
Small gestures,
The removing of specs
Your consciously clever play on words
The avoidance of touch
Taking refuge in superficial familiarity

And then, leaving,
Steps in cadence
The thrill of your half-extended invitation.