“There are certain half-dreaming moods of mind in which we naturally steal away from noise and glare, and seek some quiet haunt where we may indulge our reveries and build our air castles undisturbed.”
– Washington Irving
In the cradle of her arms…
There is never a hastened hush.
It is a haven of opulence.
And, I am…it’s welcomed visitor.
Though my time there is often visceral.
I go there to expose my painful history.
If I could choose where to fade away…
I would be where the taste meets on her lips.
Placed ever so gingerly at the curvature of her hips.
I am resigned…during daunting times…
To seek out what my love…so freely gives.
A manger of daydreaming luxury.
In which to lay my weary head.
Nothing spoken of conditions.
Nothing needed to be said.