13.

He woke up lost.
What time is it, he wanted to say
And for an instant, couldn't place the month
The season
The time of year
His age
All of it lost in the filmy gray
between sleep and awake
He could have been any age
Thirteen and in love for the first time
Seventy-five and in love for the last
His back still aching
His eyes sandy.

He blinked.
A stunning woman there next to him
Soft, yielding, curled in the quiet kiss of sleep
Sunshine hair spilled out across the pillow

How did he get there?
Did he do something wrong?
Did he do something very right?

This was his wife.
More cream and more silk
than he could have dreamed
as a teenager
when he wondered,
which of the three girls he had a crush on
he would marry

He brushed a hair from his wife's forehead
All those years, he was talking about her
Wondering about her
And they were hurtling towards each other
Through time and space
Without either of them knowing it.