Poezja

There is a time when night sneaks in,
when the roof creaks, while losing its heat
when chairs, tables, cupboards and all objects
become indistinct
part of the darkness of the night
and then my love
it’s a magical thing
to have your hot body against mine,
to feel you’re lips brushing on my skin
to become enveloped by you
as if everything is away
in a different reality.