It was three-thirty in the morning. I didn't want to be up; I had to be on my way. I've been gone far too long; trouble would be brewing. I trembled as I left the warm body and bed to make the lonely ride home.

The cold crisp air from the air conditioner chilled my bones as a crisp cool wave from my cold heart chilled my insides.

I didn't want to leave the one who could warm my heart while we were together for one who needed to be heated.

As I climbed into my truck, I longed for the warmth of the bed I'd left behind. The farther I drove, the stronger the desire was to make a U-turn and go back to the one I'd left behind.

The hot, humid temperature of the summer night chased the moon into hiding, leaving only the lights of my truck to brighten the dark road before me. The shine was barely illuminating anything other than the road. Just as in my life, I struggled to see where to go.

I was lost in thought, thinking about the place where I should have never been when I noticed the storm moving in. Raindrops splattered sporadically against my windshield, like the tears on the face of the woman I was driving towards, who waited for me at home.

I was thinking of the one curled in bed, lying naked, where I left her when the thunder rolled. It was time to switch gears, to think of the home I was heading towards in the pouring rain.

The thunder rolled, bellowing in agreement with a sinners' thoughts, threatening to release a soul-cleansing rain. It was okay, though; I needed to be washed.

I can see her in our house across town, every light on, burning as she tried to warm her frightened, scared heart. Nothing like the chill of fear to have you pacing by the telephone for a call that never comes. Her faded flannel gown that I'd grown to dislike, unable to warm her on the air-conditioned summer night.

I almost hear her in prayer, asking for a miracle. She's hoping she's not right in her assumption but hopes it's the weather keeping me out, keeping me from her, keeping me on these journeys away from home. But she knows, the truth cracked her heart, causing a wound, the first night I slept in the warm bed away from her.

She was afraid to confront it then; she will be afraid to address it now, choosing to create a world of fantasy that neither of us can truly live in. She goes there alone and often, but I can never cross over. I am not sure I want to, not even to visit.

The lights are still burning, she wants to chase away her fears, but their shine is not enough to brighten the shadows of doubt in her mind. I am out all night, and she is all alone, at a homemade for two.

I know she wonders where I am as the thunder rolls throughout the home, rumbling and shaking the lonely walls. She's praying I'm on my way, more afraid to be alone than she is of the boom of thunder that rolls across the lining of her soul.

The thunder rolls above me, and the lightning strikes ahead, warning of love growing cold. It's a choice I'll have to make; which heart am I going to break.? My question today is, why do I have to choose? They both are warm-hearted, warm-bodied soothing to my soul. After a long day of travel, they fill my sleepless nights, thawing my cold heart, especially on a stormy night, when the boisterous thunder rolls.

I run the risk of lightning striking, turning one of my loves cold. My fear of a sleepless, lonely night is found as the thunder rolls.

The storm blows on, out of control, tossing fears here and there, keeping both women awake, placing doubts in their hearts; neither wants to lose. No one wants to be left in bed alone after the thunder rolls, much less during the rumble.

A choice needs to be made must be made, but not tonight. I see her standing in the window as I pull into the driveway, my confusion melting. As she rushes out to me in the cold rain, I know this is where I want to be. For a brief moment in time, we are thankful to be together as the thunder rolls.

Dedicated to MarrianneWonderland1