Cose

    i imagine
sitting together in the lounging room,
each in their respective comfortable chairs ...
reading,
the fire occasionally fed by one or the other,
only two pieces of wood at a time,
to keep it cheery. 

 a slight resentful tension,
  always, always, present.
 defining us, but
sometimes we could mostly ignore it,
enjoy it,
as it hummed and thrilled between us,
ran along our nerves and
caressed our synapses.
This copse and cose
would be our own
shared universe,
an atmosphere
within which subtle and
synaesthetic harmonics flow and
course like light-convections.
Cloud nine - no ceiling, no vertigo.
    A page turning
in the comfortable silence
becomes its own centre,
we could call these evenings,
when they happen,
'thinking together'.
Silence may fill
with the separate 

subjective experiences
of each mind
digesting its book.
Intimate poems
forming and reforming
like clouds in the stratosphere
of an eternal room
precipitating into the prose
of our conversation,
pearling in our dreams;
passing between us
with every touch,
every kiss.