Lucy

When you,

my darling of three spring times

climb in with me, in the morning early

when woke from dreaming or from birdies chorus

And I fold you into me.

 The coldest parts of you,

though torture to my sleep warm flesh,

 I suffer gladly

to make you warm again.

 Your frozen feet allowed to

kick into my doughy tum

your hands, reach for my armpits

 this I allow.

Your face so close to mine I cannot see you

but for furry colours

a wide line of pink for mouth

set in a peachy frame

I breathe your breath

you mine

it clogs my lungs and makes

me roll my eyes in panic

but then,

as I open my lids and look and you, hearing the ungluing too

open yours,

little slits, showing sleepy sloes

the pink spreads slowly o’er your face

you smile.

◄ Up The Tops

Ceci n'est pas une poeme... ►

Comments

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Wed 7th Apr 2010 12:08

This is an intimate moment well rendered, like a personal photo peeped at, almost causing a guilty feeling.
I don't think you need 'poetical license' with 'o'er'. 'over' seems fine, and fits with the type of poem.

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John Darwin

Tue 6th Apr 2010 09:40

How beautifully warm and loving. I have noticed this about a lot of your work and always enjoy reading it.

John

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Andy N

Tue 6th Apr 2010 08:20

lovely... a lovely one to make you smile.. sleepl sloes is wonderful in particular.. x

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 6th Apr 2010 07:03

Lovely Rach. xx

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Dave Bradley

Mon 5th Apr 2010 22:58

A warming read - beautifully put.

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Isobel

Mon 5th Apr 2010 21:49

I love this - it is so life affirming! I can so identify with it. Mine has seen 6 spring times (I love that expression) and is normally followed by one of 10. That first snuggle is divine and yes they do seek out the warmest most intimate areas - humans at their most pack like. It's when arguments occur over ownership of duvet that it all gets a bit fraught...

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