Babbling Brookes (11 May 1954 / Macclesfield)
I said hated sleeping without curtains
but you said why keep out the night as
you grabbed me, hands still wet from the sink,
slow danced me to the bedroom.
the moonlight you said was aphrodisiac.
after, the soft light illuminated the quick shed clothes
of our passion,
outlined your sleeping form, foetal.
I lay wakeful listening to the night sounds.
the hum of your breath,
creak of boards, the house unbending
from days heat.
the soft shifting of summer leaves.
the phosphor orange street light winked out
its night vigil ended, a signal for dawn.
that was an eternity ago
before mortality tripped us up.
laying alone, moonlight seeping under the door
hit by the small stabs of pain the memories restore
and I remember I still hate sleeping without curtains.
P H Brookes © 2013
Comments about this poem (Tricky Moonlight by Babbling Brookes )
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