Finding Hope after the Storm

A poem.

Of all the places we go when we are tired,
my mind goes to the smell of your skin against mine in the morning,
The gentle brush of your fingers on my feet,
The smile on your face when we find each other again after our minds have drifted off into faraway lands of the past, the present and our future creations.
Where we are now is somewhere in the middle
A place I am not familiar with
A mountain I do not know how to climb
I ask the gods to show me what it is I need to know
The tools to handle the eye of this storm
For when we are in it
I will need you most to remind me that after
Every storm comes a rainbow.