Morphean Whims

You amend dreams like warm blooms do to May,  
Or as a fervent breeze treats a cold bed  
After a merry dancing of the drapes.  

Thereupon like an odalisque you lay  
With eyes of intent that can't be misread;  
A goddess demanding her plucked grapes!  
 
Your contours, honeyed by your heat,  
Have the bright amber nebulosity  
Such as seen on halos and angel wings.  
 
It seems my eyes with each other compete  
To scan you with accruing ferocity!
From your tresses to toes my frenzied gaze clings!  
 
Then suddenly we're a tangle of limbs  
And I cannot be among you too much!  
Well...that's how the dream goes up until dawn...  
 
When Aurora spoils our Morphean whims!  
She interferes with your finishing touch  
By providing instead...an awakening yawn!  
 
I wish just once she might let us conclude...  
I'd hate to think that Aurora's a prude!