Karen
 Francis

How do you know you are loved?
That pre-warmed spot
as I slip between sheets
and just a quiet sigh as my freezing feet thaw on him

How do you know you are loved?
Tea served in bed
so I can ease into the morning
watching the early light sneaking up on the garden

How do you know you are loved?
The supportive hand in the small of my back
his bulk forging the way
because I disappear in crowds

How do you know you are loved?
A surprise winter sunbreak
all sorted in a day
because he’s noticed my breathing is a bit rattle-y

How do you know you are loved?
My favourite curry made
ready to serve as I stumble through the door
shattered after being ‘nanny’ all day

How do you know you are loved?
The last luscious lick of his lemon sorbet
even though I thought I didn’t want dessert
but he knew I’d like it anyway

How do you know you are loved?
Tickets for the Globe when he doesn’t ‘get’ Shakespeare
and enduring every Austen series, even ‘Sanditon’
when he doesn’t do ‘bonnets’ either.

How do you know you are loved?
Boiler kept full to the brim
as I hate being cold –
and a fire lit for me when he’s still in a T-shirt

How do you know you are loved?
Thought transference in any context or company
understanding me so intimately
we communicate eloquently via glance, or raised eyebrow

How do you know you are loved?
My absence is noticed
we are invisibly tethered, each other’s preferred company
and when life is seriously scary there’s always a reassuring hand in mine

How do you know you are loved?
As I pass those with flat, dead-fish eyes – my heart flutters, reminded that
my cup is always at least half full
everlastingly refilled with passion, care, his regard-
I know just how well loved I am.