Cold Feet

When a poem isn't written by a poet (me)...

I have cold feel when I crawl under covers
But he warms them for me when he can.
Last night both our feet were cold,
20 toes of fear and apprehension.

I dreamt of pearly skies in South Dakota,
And winds blowing in all directions.
As if a sunset could have a storm,
And I was standing in it.

I am certain about wanting a family,
About a life of sticky fingers and little sleep.
He is certain about death and taxes,
But not about me, not yet.

We'll keep walking, even though I want to run,
We'll stop and go in traffic, even though I want to drive.
I'll be patient at red lights, and grateful for green ones.
And hopefully we'll get to where 'there' is

Together.