from what my dreams may come
Was she truly here? I asked myself, as I satOn the edge of the bed, wrapped in black
Silken sheets. I could feel their smooth
Coolness against my bare flesh.
As I shook the grog of the nights sleep
From
My head, again I found myself asking.
This time asking aloud, could she have been
Here. She must have been I answered. I can
Still taste her on my lips.
As I moved through the sheets, I could still
Smell her scent. Sweet and hot, and somewhat
Moist.
I could feel my heart start to quicken its
Pace. The thought that this dream woman
Might have been, and still may be here with
Me aroused me.
I arose from the bed and searched for her, but alas in vain. She was not to be found.
But her scent lingered on the air the rest
Of the morning.
As I sat at the table starring blankly into
The shimmer of the cup of black coffee.
I thought I heard her laughter drift by on
The gentle breathe of the wind.
Poetry by John A. Mcculloch
Read 569 times
Written on 2006-11-22 at 05:15
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