His face is sleeping now,
his body rests,
he is away in fiction of his mind.

Who knows what he is dreaming.
I count his breaths a minute,
touch his skin, embrace.

White cotton is his warm cocoon
in this early morning air
till he wriggles out of the envelope, I watch.

The giggling sunlight finds his body amusing.
I wonder what goes on
underneath his trembling eyelids.

Where is he now, will he be back.
He turns over slowly,
an arm finds me and then forgets.

His breathing stops, I give a push,
he grasps for air.
I can not die, because of him.

Because he might be needing me.
Night after night I shall be watching,
not dying, because of this.

Because the sunlight and me are in love
with a man between two cotton sheets.
And he knows nothing of all this. He is asleep.



Comments on: "Cocooned" (16)

  1. t h i n g s + f l e s h said:

    dearest Ina, whenever i visit you i find beauty. your poetry has a brilliance all its own. tony

  2. I just agree with the comment above.

  3. This poem is truly lovely.

  4. You, friend, have such a beautiful talent with words.

  5. Wonderful poem and yet another favourite! Definitely πŸ™‚

    L&H xx

  6. Some lovely turns of phrase.

  7. Beautiful.

    A poem which warms my heart


  8. Lovely, peaceful, sleepy love poem … XO

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