The pale window

The sun is still low in the sky,

it’s rays have barely begun

to pierce the chill of our pale window.

Don’t go,  we are scarcely out of dreaming.

Caress my breast with the lifeline of your palm

while my head rests in the crook of your shoulder.

With these  fingertips you kiss one by one

I will ease the furrow of your brow and

soothe your body with the twining of my own.

Let the hours pass  through us tenderly

like a shallow river of fledgling reeds.

 

Steve hanks art