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Click hereA goddess in repose
Well, not exactly.
Things begin that way
She lays so serene and silent
I must watch the rise and fall of her chest
To know for sure she's breathing.
Then a thunder slowly rises
As if Thor himself dwells within her
And I think of the sound of my father's old chainsaw
As he cut up deadfalls on our property.
This cacophony is only briefly interrupted
By the occasional snort and groan
As she tosses and turns
And pulls all the blankets around her
Into a snug and warm cocoon
Only to later briefly awaken
And, complaining of being hot,
Kick them to the floor
While I shiver beside her.
Later still she metamorphoses
From woman into octopus
Limbs everywhere
Taking up the entire bed
Pushing me to where I balance
A quarter inch from falling
My head pressed against the night stand.
Even still, I never rest better
Than when she spends the night
For I know when I awaken
She will be there beside me.
Funny and inspired. Tis better to suffer the imposition than to suffer alone. No?
Nicely written (although she will never admit to it). :)
and you are right. The morning makes the night far better than bearable.
those days well.
You captured it with humor and tenderness
Thank you