Initially we watched telly on one sofa .
Held hands like teenagers until
sundered by your back pain.
Now we are adrift on separate settees, 
a 4 ft strait of carpet between us.
Despite your body healing ,
an unspoken understanding
that the comfort of lounging full length
on couches has become habit now.
But on the motor bike ,
when railway crossings halt our journey,
you cut the engine ,
settle back against me,
in a different kind of coupling,
which despite dense leathers
is close as skin on skin.
I prop my chin on your shoulder
as we chat in this new intimacy.

Fiona Sinclair

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Fiona Sinclair   would be pleased to hear them