First, it is only that the tree

is more a presence

less a shadow

beyond my window

then other horizons

light their resting clouds

with a subtle pre-dawn glow

that slowly sets the first gold sun glint

on each high branch above

against a new pale blue sky -

will dawn chasten my succubus

end our companioned time?

that half-felt fragile warmth beside me

seems to slide silently away

slowly the room

gains some substance

as the night shades withdraw

the chest with my clothes

my hanging coat

the half-open door

the rumpled bed beneath my chin -

is that her knee I see

drawn up beneath the sheets,

her hair spread over the pillow?

will dawn yet light her beauty:

flame colour in that russet hair?

but the dawning sun

sets light to my soul

exposes my phantasy to show

the rumpled pillow pucker

the tossed bedding shadow

heaped around my feet -

she is no more

has fled as a dream

with the light


◄ Images of a High Tide

Stranded High ►


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