Friday, August 20, 2010

The Dream That Was Not

Lost in sleep I hear her rise,
Feel her warm lips on my eyes,
A kiss on each, one on my head,
And she steals softly out of bed;
Time stops while out she flies.

A wet towel lies limp on the sink,
A bathrobe hangs damp and pink,
The tub traps some silken hair,
An eau de parfum floats in air,
The shower curtain sports a wink.

She has left herself behind
Several ways she could find
Reminding me she wasn't just a dream,
Even scrawling herself on the steamed
Mirror in my dreaming mind.

(Image: Painting by Alyssa Monks, Steamed 64x86, oil on linen, 2009;

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