I awoke
this morning
lying beside a
beautiful poem;
its warm,
sweet breath
upon my face;
its soft,
smooth lines,
(a fuzzy peach)
glistening in
the dawn’s
first light;
its love-soaked
verses written
one by one,
throughout
the night,
upon twisted,
discarded linen;
baring all with
naked truth,
with a delicate,
childlike
innocence;
angelic,
peaceful,
sleeping as
I write.
~gj duerrschmidt
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