Just felt like posting this one.
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At last we lie down
in a sun warm room.
Window, crack open.
Wind that catches the crack,
moves the curtain, carefully.
Tired, garden in order.
An arm, part of the pillow.
Hand touches the warm cheek.
One hand explores an arm,
draped over resting soul.
One body shifts to another position.
Then other, turns for closure.
Quietness draws a circle.
Blackness, not of the night,
rather of a sleep. That calls,
then settle for awhile.
1 comment:
Wow! I really like this one. I like the way it moves, like thoughts, like the way you see one thing and then the next and then how the two tie together. Thanks for a great Monday morning read (for me!)
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