(A picture from A Sunday Newspaper Magazine).
Fresh coffee and stale bedclothes,
outside, wet earth from new rain and
the click of a spunky robin,
even before I open my eyes
tell me it’s morning.
The sheet slips on purpose
as you’re already fixing me a stare,
both erect
we know that waking sex
is on the horizon.
But not before I unfurl you
like a chart, a mariner’s map
where I study the perilous shallows and
mark the safety of warmer, deeper waters
before deftly sliding into safe haven.
© Graham Sherwood 10/2014
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