When In Your Bed Room Poem by James McLain

When in your bedroom.
I come to you because of you.
In shadows I am standing.

Very indirectly,
the time we have at hand you came already.
The window with the stick,
rediscovered rounded corners.So I came.

Be good to me our time the moon is rising fast.
The sun it comes and then I will be caught.
I am the waiter without words your constant craving.
Smoking pipes and dinner jackets.

When tobacco does not remain.
Cue ball and billard in the velvet side bar pocket.
When the pen for lack of cover I have lost.
Open it exposed,

when the month the coming year.
The windows old to you cracked colored glass I speak.
And the vibration of the glass where is the time?
Dark hair brown eyes the rouge is never lost.

Beautiful is art for each poem comes the second time.
A rose in redness won't.
Make me remember less when more is there to have.

When the blood is bold, be impossible.
Where our feet itself are known.
And your bedroom door directly does not seem the other way
another door when opened leads me there back into you.