Aubade

Eyes still lidded
with the fleeting demons of sleep,
I watch your shower-beaded figure
slip white folded lace over gently mounded breasts.
Dog-yellow panties, still damp from evening kisses
and fingers slid between your thighs
to release the heady scent of need.
An oatmeal jumper, held tight against skin
as faded jeans slide over legs
that gripped so tight an hour ago.

Grey eyes sparkle as you catch my smile
and I pull back the duvet,
filling the room with the stink of sweat and sex and fingers twined into hair and forgetfulness of the world (if only for a night)
and your lower your gaze and shake your head
and glance out of the window into the pale dawn, bright with snow
and your gold-banded finger flashes.

As the door closes I lift my hand to my face
and the scent of you is still captured on my fingers
at least for another hour.

Another hour.


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