Poetry

At home you are already asleep,
are curled onto your side,
with your hair spread out like a sheaf
and outside the branches flutter in the breeze
 
while the odours of rosemary, lavender and gardenia
softly penetrates the room
and when I get into bed to find my resting place
you look for lingering moments at me
 
with eyes that gleam like those of a cat
and you claim a song
that tells about my love and longing
and bodily urges awake between us.