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In my mornings,
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As I slowly drift from the honey of slumber,
Yours is the very first thought which runs through my head
In that thick milky madness of dreamland,
my first conscious strings.
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Linger a moment upon the memory
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Of the first kiss you shared with me
You looked at my lips
Such a thoughtful face
Ready to meet them
but not quite so bold
Pondering the best way, perhaps
to read the story they told
Ran your finger over them;
Listened to me.
I whispered things
that made yours smile
All timidity disappeared
And we met tenderly
In that sweet innocence
of the first kiss
You bestowed upon me.
That night in my kitchen,
In the dim light
Slipped my arms round your body from behind
then you reached back to embrace mine
Together in silence
touched only by soft laughter
My head on your shoulder
I could see our reflection in the window
out of the corner of my eye
It looked right
it felt so too
Us dancing in there in soft light
in that backwards hug
The time on the pier
sitting on the swing
huddled together shivering
clasping in our hands
the pink crumpled rose
you picked for me
from secluded gardens
behind black iron gates
and stone walls.
One that peeked out at us,
you pulled from its domain
and placed in my hair,
Short locks from which it promptly fell.
Caught it in my hand,
Which you caught in yours
When in the darkness
cold and crisp
Our shadows melted
Held togther
By drops of light poured from the moon
On that creaking swing
By a dancing sea of twinklings
In a black bowlfull of stars . . .
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In my mornings,
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As I slowly drift from the honey of slumber,
Yours is the very first thought which runs through my head
In that thick milky madness of dreamland,
my first conscious strings.
In my nights,
Snuggled in a nest of pillows
Tangled in blankets from which
your scent has faded
and your imprint long disapeared
Warm and drousy
Before sinking into slumber
Within the familiar comfort of my bed
Yours is the thought
that dances through my mind
Beginning with that first dream
of what used to be.
MELISSA G
MARCH 27 1999
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