All night Tippi and I lie with our arms
wrapped around each other
I bury my face in her neck
and she wakes every now and then
to kiss the top of my head
when the birds begin to sing
and the sky turns peachy,
we lie looking at each other,
our eyes too tired for tears.
Tippi rubs my nose with my own.
'It's all going to be OK,' she says.
'And even if it's not OK. It really is.'