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.
not yet, too soon
leave me to drift on this pink cloud,
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