In The Morning Light Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
In The Morning Light
She has not moved,
has not stirred
since last he looked at her.
As if she must
cocoon love deep inside her,
dreams billowing to fill
her darknesses.
Later the real
world’s noises begin
to intrude upon intimate images.
She wakes to the blear
of that other self.
Reaches to cover
her nakedness with a sheet
in the morning’s harsh after-life
which needs to be discreet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 6:49:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
