Awake

Standard

wooed by promises of favorite things
the weight of unfamiliar book in hand
the glittery, silver pitch of children giggling
rumpled beds warm from languid mornings of unrushed wakings
soothing taste of music on the tongue
rich lather of lavender slow dancing off the scalp to tango
trails of abstraction over shoulders bare, sway of back, waiting hips
to hear my name
as sigh

© Julie Ayers
April 2012 – NaPoWriMo 15

calling

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