By terry
Date: 15 August 2000

Where Does She Go?

Having experienced a taste of eternity in her passion
Over the last hour or so
Body sated in ways that made her every muscle unwind
And loosen like cold honey 
When it lingers on a heated tongue
Melting, growing soft, freely flowing as it drips down the back of your throat,
I lay studying her profile
Asleep
And wonder, not for the first time
Where does she go?
Beauty,
When she sleeps?

I see her smiling as her rest deepens
Beyond the realm of reality and obligation and commitment
And if I could enter that place in unison
I wonder
What would I see and hear
If I could read her mind
(Half as well as I read her face)
But I can’t
So I’m left to ponder…
What does she dream of?
Beauty,
When she sleeps?

Is it something ethereal,
Of such extreme delicacy
That the mere disturbance of a stray grave thought
Might loose her lingering smile
Create furrowed brow
Just that quick?
Or does her dream world 
Tend toward a more base avenue of concourse
Replaying our animated lovemaking 
In an unending reel.
Body instinctively responding
As nipple hardens, a slight moan escaping
The confines of her throat.
So what does she dream of, where does she go?
Beauty,
When she sleeps?

Am I there
Are those my arms in the dark?
And is it my naked back to which she clings?
My name she whispers in a sigh?
My smile that brings her own?
Is it me?
Is it me?