Written on iPhone - sitting in bed

This one, quite literally, forced itself on me this morning. Doesn't happen often - never usually that lucky!


We stand on steps
of thin, clear glass -
A staircase spiralling
away through
stormy clouds above.
'Look up' I say, but
no - your gaze stays
resolutely level.

I hold your hand
curled close in mine -
Your fingers frost-
bitten; shy. Your
feet firm-planted
on your stair. Below
them swirling air.

'Look down,' I say.
And that you do, the
dizzy misty mess
from which we grew.

I step up.
Just one.
Stretch out
my arm.
Hold on
to you.

Kate Sermon