Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Intimate illusions

Are of the arms -
Which hold me through out the night.
The warmth of a breath against the nape of my neck,
the steady murmur of a heart beating amid my shoulders blades
as hands clasped, fingers are reassuringly entwined.
Thus you’re with me wherever you are
as we will always sleep under
- The same stars.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2009

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