by Alex Smyth

When the air is very cold...
And the covers are very warm...

In that mystical moment in time called waking-
(Where is meets think)

My body lies like rich warm molasses between the sheets.


Author's Note: This is a repost from a couple of years ago. Seems an appropiate season to bring it out again.

Posted on 11/20/2003
Copyright © 2024 Alex Smyth

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Graeme Fielden on 11/20/03 at 01:48 PM

*Sigh*...looking at the wind, and rainy darkness outside I'm wishing that I was still beneath the blankets! A timely post indeed!

Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 11/21/03 at 01:14 AM

Quite an analogy! Cold outside those covers. Body wants to stick to those covers! Yeah, yeah!

Posted by Max Bouillet on 11/21/03 at 06:23 PM

Is meets think.... a lot to think about on that phrase. Many things to be derived and re-thought. Great verse that holds my mind hostage to thought.

Posted by Mara Meade on 11/21/03 at 06:44 PM

mmmmmmmmm........ cozy. comfy.

Posted by Charles E Minshall on 11/21/03 at 11:48 PM

Yawn ah good ah yawn poem Alex. Y-a-w-n Charlie

Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 12/03/03 at 10:56 PM

I really like the line "(Where is meets think)"

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 12/06/03 at 11:10 AM

while you dream warm dreams in yours, I toss and roll in mine, like the sea. A beautiful, upon rising poem.

Posted by Ginette T Belle on 03/30/04 at 01:22 AM

oh my god...that is one of the most beautiful things i've read today...that is going on my favourite list..thanx

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 02/04/05 at 01:52 PM

as I type, it is presently snowing outside my window and you have me thinking about warm covers, suspension and mollasses and other such delighful articles of confection

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