It turns out you have cat to you; your sleep sounds border lion’s breath. A choppy purr that tells often of comfort & sometimes disruptions-
In bed I come in often after you; our schedules off-kiltered from differing responsibilities & priorities of self care; my skin is -these days- a pampered baby.
You- warm. I- an ice cube- that sun-bakes my edges on your heat.
I set to thaw- compliment of you. You bring me back to room temp.
Once the cold cold cold subsides I am myself again, more cozy & too awake to recognize my own sleep creature; safely assuming I’m mouse because I’m quiet, lay still, & wake so easily. I curl up small & am soft & my sneezes are in high register.
Waking life I am no mouse & you no cat.
Just when you breath you are forest king. Your vibration- my calm. I listen to the lull & am invited to join.
Old habits die hard they say. Such it is when I read you, I begin then by the half point I remember how well you wrote and how well I understand it, and I smile. Merry Xmas dear writer!