She fell for me, too slow,
As the fabric was, off her bed,
     Slithering,
An hour late for all night long,
Few seconds close to dreaming,
The moon's crippling crescent,
The sleight, the curves of these waters,
     All pronations that are for me,
     Were for me, and mine only, only
That everything smells like fresh pajamas,
Only that this time, for a very long time,
I am waiting, and it sounded
     Like true love.*

© 2015 J.S.P.