While you were sleeping


I wrote this
while you were sleeping;

while your head imprinted
a vanilla linen memory
and the chintz eiderdown
rose and fell with the cadence
of your lungs,

while the fingers of my
left hand caressed
your open palm,
our warm legs tangling
between rumpled sheets,

while slumber
smoothed the furrows
of your day’s toil,
scattering the remnants
to the brisk March winds,

while my name tumbled sleepy
from your lips and the black dog
bayed at the waning moon,
knowing he would find
no quarter at our door.

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

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