in the morning
as we waken
I feel
the breathing
next
my face
the flow of air
upon my eyelids
the tempo
of
your breasts
all these things
of
morning
are
as light
lilts lightly
cross
the ceiling
patterns
shadow
in my mind
of woodlands wet
and furze clad
mountain
heather laden
granite grey
as the sun
rises
out
our window
shadows
deepen
disperse
then
disappear
the breath
upon my eyelids
stops
suddenly
and
turns
into
a
kiss

08/28/2006

Posted on 08/28/2006
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