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Cynthia Thompson Feb 2012
From dreamy sleep I feel cold feet
Pressed against my knees
Little toes search for warmth
And beckon me from slumber

Moonbeams disclose the bedroom guest
Sweet angel at my side
A perfect mix of heaven sent
Wrapped in blankets, cuddled nigh
Cynthia Thompson Feb 2012
The background music loiters in the wind
Notes resting on molecules and floating towards me
Sounds of instruments strewn together
Eliciting movement, bodies close,
Liquid tension drips to the floor

I wish I could feel the movement
Lost in a body that has forgotten how
Embarrassment as I stand motionless
And the room moves around me
The music calls, it demands a narcosis
I am the only unbound to the spell
And my eyes dart away, abashed

A reverie finds itself creeping in my mind
Younger and lost in immortality
I once enjoyed the witches curse of youth
And moved like those before me

I walk away, unsure of my maturity
Should I grieve my missing youth
Or should I be grateful that the spell cannot bind me?

— The End —