We wake...me for the umpteenth time –
I ask you, ‘So, you had a bad night then?’
‘No. I slept well. Didn’t you?’
I don’t have the heart to say
I was woken a dozen times or more...
Parkinson’s doesn’t make for a peaceful
sleeping partner, but I wouldn’t have it
any other way, not in a million years
because I love the way you smell,
the way your voice sounds like
Oxford Circus in the rush-hour,
Soho, after dark, Niagara Falls,
and a forest after rain.
Because I love you, I can’t help but wish
they’ll find a cure, one day, but until then,
you’ll continue to be the man of my dreams...
if I ever get to dream...that is.