- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Bedside Stories
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The high wind's whining through the leafless trees
The sheets are crumpled and wet
The cotton doll clutched in a firm small hand
Can't stop the misery. Yet
There's a woman's soft arms in the fearful night
Embryonic delight to cry in.
The balmy air is whispering of promise
The sheets are pleasant and clean
No thoughts of morning now time has congealed
In present's unchangeable sheen
And a woman's soft arms in the cool dark night
Form the perfect oasis to lie in.
A branch creaks hoarsely, blown against the pane
The sheets are clammy and hot
Deserted corridors surround the final bed
They echo the longing you've got
For a woman's soft arms in the stifling night
To grant you the quiet to die in.
- COMMENTS
DawnJover 11 years ago-- birth, life, death -- made meaningful in the arms of a woman. Yeah, we're that important! :)
tazz317over 11 years agoeven the choices are limited, TK U MLJ LV NV
