The Morning After Poem by david lessard

The prescence of you is in this room!
The rumpled sheets, where we made love,
not once, not twice, but thrice!
The little cries of pleasure,
I gave to you...are inaudible now,
but they linger here.
The sleeping bag I used to cover you,
'cause you got cold...
the red pullover shirt,
my Budweiser shirt,
the robe I lent you,
the half-eaten apple,
the empty coffe cups,
the photo albums,
the record albums...
are strewn about,
as we left them.
Your prescence is in this room!
Where we shared a day of love,
and held each other tight,
to stem the lengthening hours
of the night,
hoping to slow time,
before you had to go.