The World At The End Of Our Bed Poem by Don McWilliams
The World At The End Of Our Bed
I woke in the small hours
to find you
sitting at the foot of the bed
in our hotel room.
The window shutters
were latched in place
and a Mexican breeze
played in the cottonwood outside,
dancing on the face of the moon
and dappling you
in shadow and starlight.
I watched you for a long time. I never
asked why you couldn't sleep.
Monday, May 7, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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5/8/2024 2:16:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Great romantic poem