She Sleeps Poem by Terry Collett

She sleeps.

There is exhaustion.

Exhaustion of mind,
of body.

L'épuisement
de l'esprit.

Too tired to undress,
she sleeps in the clothes
he wore the night before.

Smell of apples,
fresh picked after rain.

Scent of her God given,
day worn.

Wonder if she dreams of me
or another
or of castle towers,
and knight rescues
after dragon slaying.

Maybe we made love
or else did other.

Contented sleep
looks like,
that well indulged
featured look
while sleeping
in some god's keeping.

Sommeil réparateur.

Bird song outside,
dawn chorus,
traffic far off.

Her hands
which once touched mine,
rest in their sleep.

Her lips just open,
once mine to kiss,
await kisses
in her dreams.

I lay and watch
dawn's light play
upon the ceiling.

I lay awake with that
marooned on a desert island
depressing feeling.