Breathe deep the humid air

The air,humid sweet          
hawthorn blossom,          
bitter-sweet of May          
beside the waiting elders          
drowsing bluebells          
limp and silent          
in the early breeze.          
It was only eight          
my love lay sleeping          
midst chaotic sheets          
humid air,bitter-sweet          
rivalling the blossoms          
reminding me of her.          
I lingered by the bluebells          
saw Eglantine's first bloom          
virgin flowers open to the sun          
as I thought of the rose      
that lay sleeping,petals closed  
(humid air and bittersweet)          
for me to wake . . . . . .          
It was only eight no need of rush,          
time to leave the pigeons          
cooing in the early breeze,          
breathe again humid air,           
bittersweet and curtains closed.