In the fragile moments before dawn,
when clarity wars with confusion
the distant sound of a door closing
heralds the rush of cold air
across blushing flesh -
intent on waking me from
this sweet reverie.
no
please
not yet, too soon
leave me to drift on this pink cloud,
marshmallow-soft,
soothing in the silence of my dream as it morphs
beneath the flutter of drowsy eyelids,
into imagined equatorial breezes playing with
lazy thoughts tracing through my mind-
of palms swaying, waves rolling, sand and sun...
but it is in the whisper, one soul to another
yours to mine, pleading for my return-
that calls me back to you
resistance is useless, every cell that is me
responds to the resonance of you.
.
and if you stop whispering.
~~~
I don't have a 55 this week! I wrote this at the start of the week and time and commitments seem to have stolen any thoughts for a 55. Have a great weekend/week and if you are looking for 55's visit G-Man, he's the
man.
Love,
Eaton.
