it is morning and
love hides in the bed
linen where
still-sleepy arms
and legs start to awake.

the scent of rose
on the pillow,
the scent of love
blossoming with
a kiss beneath the sheets,
honey limbs
roused in the sunshine.

late november and
the leaves fall,
spiralling to the
floor, browns and
golds, sinking,
earth bound
in the crisp morning
air.


sunshine
pouring through
the window,
a thin sun
stretches out,
the grey-eyed winter
waits like our
kisses, sweet as
cherry, sweet as our
yearning lips.