You Promised Not To Wake Me...

She snores softly in a tunnel
of cognisant darkness, unable or
unwilling to roll onto her silent
side, rumbles along rhythmic
tracks of her dreams clacking in
an entourage of warm memories;
You promise not to wake me she
sighs soulfully, and I hold you to that.

Each morning she opens her thighs
to a glow that rises and soars in a
crescendoed climax of awakening
intensity; each morning she claims
that the opening of her eyes brings
her back – she lies quiescent in
imitation sleep while tranquilly
contemplating, waiting expectantly.

In the day’s beginnings, warmth of
recent love-making paints lingering
veils of lace filigree filling the hard
vacuum’s vagrancy; the uncontrived
portraits of ancient love hang with
secure smiles – joining the day with
effusive greetings she says again,
You promised not to wake me...
© 16 April 2007, I.D. Carswell