Night Blooming

She sleeps
And long trailing tendrils of night
Lay streaming across her pillow

Her breath
Her dreams
Her longing for awakening

Will it come in the morning?
Will it come in the deep hours
Between twilights?
What will happen to her
As today bleeds into tomorrow
Turning the future towards the past?

Her breathing rhythmic
Herlimbs reposed
Is she innocence
Or is she temptation?
A siren’s wish
Or a child’s dream?

What will you find when
You come to her bed
Warm skin waiting to be touched?
Fresh lips, waiting to be kissed?
The scent of a woman more alluring
Than fresh bouquets and more
Decadent than all the spices
Of the orient?
What is there, between the rise
And fall of her brests?

Will she arise at the whisper of
Her Master’s need
Or will she turn her dreams toward
Sunrise and sleep

Never knowing you were there?