Love And Other Colours Poem by Mark Hamilton

The cold grey light of morning
is creeping at the window;
you turn to me in your sleep,
burrowing over,
your face wan in half-light,
your lips half-open,
as though about to palely
speak.
But the warmth of you
is every colour,
carried by your blood,
running round my limbs,
a gentle glowing sea.
These are moments
that nothing can touch,
when you fold
the rainbow of your lovely self
softly into me.