Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Soft as sheets

The days are dark, 
the moon is eclipsed
The sun is unhappy,
and the dawn is colourless

The dense fog,
is cleared by the pale sunlight
and reveals a mountain with its valley

In the valley of vast nothingness,
lies a derelict house
Shades of red make the house,
with its ventricles and atria of rooms

In its heart room filled with warmth,
sits a bed with soft ivory sheets
Pillows of crisp hues of cream
and a blanket, the colour of light

In the bed lies a body
a body in an eternal slumber
Pale as its sheets, pillows and blankets
still as the valley, lifeless as the sun and moon

A knock left unanswered,
a stranger has arrived
The door unlocked,
a stranger enters

The heart room left vulnerable,
the stranger comes near
Drawn to the warmth,
the stranger creeps

Closer and closer,
the stranger is invited
Filled with colour and emotion,
the stranger lifts the blanket

Closer and closer,
the stranger leans in
His hand on bodies hand,
his breath on bodies flesh,
his warmth on bodies soul,
his love in bodies heart.
His kiss on lips,
injects life rejuvenation.

Opened eyes and loves first breath,
body is whole,
house is a home,
valley is filled,
days are light,
moon is revealed,
sun is elated,
and dawn is complete...

Mr Lovelace out...