Friday, 18 November 2011

Made into a thing of silence
Of stillness, wrapped against you
Filling up less space, and less
With every movement in the dark

Every indraw of your breath
Claiming this quiet room as yours
My spaces yielding as I do
Fading to a happy second place

A spot from which to watch
The rhythmic rise and fall
Of crisp while sheets
Staying as close as me

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