Somewhere Like Here

Somewhere Like Here Poem

by David Christopher Johnston

I think I got lost for a while

In the glint of your eyes and the curve of your smile

The way your soft skin touches my pillow

Stirring from sleep

I see the look that you save for me

I know it, but I don’t believe it

I’m pinching myself just to check I’m not dreaming

But if this is my dream

Please don’t wake me

 

Let’s get lost under the covers

And light up the night

But we’re more than just lovers

And if this is as good as it gets

Then leave us here

Forever in this moment

I’m trying to remember how we made it to this place

But all the pain, hurt and sadness

Goes away when I see your face

 

It must be three hours or more

Since we woke up this morning

But the curtains are still drawn

I’ve no idea if it’s a.m. or p.m.

But it wouldn’t make a difference to the way that I’m feeling

There’s a glow

Of a stray sunbeam come to rest on your nose

Sneaking in from the window

 

Maybe we’re crazy

Leaping in, thinking from the heart

Maybe that’s the point I’m making

The risks we’ve taken

Have led us to where we are

 

I’m not saying we know where this is going to go

But there ain’t no shame in hope

And I don’t fear where this is going to be in twenty years

But if we’re going anywhere

Let’s make it somewhere like here

 

So I think I’ll get lost one more time

In the midst of it all and the warmth of your life

The way this feeling seems never ending

The thought of forever is more than enough for me…

 

~

Copyright © 2021 David Christopher Johnston.

David Christopher Johnston hereby asserts and gives notice of his right under s.77 and s.78 of the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work of fiction. All moral rights are asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this work of fiction may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. This poem is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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