My lover sleeps soundly in the next room,
Two doors and a path separate me
from her soft touch and the sound
of her dreamless sleep.
Wrapped, perhaps, in her smooth satin clothes,
Covered, perhaps, in her sweet nightly perfume,
Eyes closed as gems would rest,
Hair laid out so that I could
write about it more,
Oh, when I see her:
Arms that would touch the sky
White and soft as if they were clouds;
How beads of sweat would fall
like a gentle drizzle upon a field of short grass,
And what beauty, the rays
of moonlight that sneak past her eyes;
Oh, when I see her and what she does to me.
My lover sleeps soundly in the next room,
Two doors and silence separate me
from her soft touch.
I sleep,
Still she is not with me.
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