Ice's Wintry Touch Poem by cheryl davis miller

As a Lady I love to feel
someones hands caress my back.
After all these years my hubby
has finally got the knack.
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Here of late this set of fingers
running up and down my spine,
belong to someone I don’t know
it's unsettling I find.
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Didn't ask for his attention
it’s intrusive at best.
At night he is so demanding
I get very little rest.
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I dug out all my flannel gowns
but they hardly slow him down.
Sitting right beside the wood stove
is the safest spot I’ve found.
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Yesterday I questioned Connie,
'Has he pestered you of late'?
'Yes he has' she answered sadly,
'I guess it is just our fate'.
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I responded, 'As a young girl,
seems I did not mind the cold'.
'Yes I know' she smiled sadly,
'it is proof we’re getting old'.

c.d.m. 2/2/10