12 Hours

Even this was worth it. Even this.
Even the hours in the car, just waiting,
The so many events we had to miss
The fear of freezing, or of suffocating
In an airless but warm car, even the fear
Of waking up tomorrow in a ditch
I ran into today, the thought that here
Could be the last place I would ever switch
Lanes, before a semi slammed us down,
Even the tumbling exhausted in
A bed I barely felt, the clear white gown
Of deadly ice on which the wheels would spin
All of them were worth it, with her by
Besides, I doubted we would really die.