Molasses...

time should be more like

the black molasses

sitting in a jam jar

on my grandmother's window sill

try to pour it out

it comes slow and easy

as it moves you watch

dip your fingers in and put them to your lips

taste its sweetness

Night after night...

He remembered the first time he slept beside her. Heavy eyelids, voices trailing, her hand resting on his thigh.

The next night, lying in the dark, he felt a soft hand looking for the same spot it had been the night before. Once her hand was in place, he felt her body relax as she let out a sigh and fell asleep. And so this continued the night after that. And the night after that.

One night, as they were turning down the covers, he looked at her with a slight smile and asked, “Why do you put your hand on my leg every night before we go to sleep?” She answered, "Well, as long as I am touching you I know you are there, even if I’m somewhere else in my dreams." She paused for a moment. "I know how you love to travel, and when my dreams take me extraordinary places you have a better chance of coming along if we’re connected."