Feeling poetic.

"tangled up in shadows"

Rain and sleet splat and skritch the glass outside.
Gunmetal gray sky, bleary sunlight clawing through cloudcover
for an instant or two only, then backing off, defeated.

In this room
the drear of the outside means less than nothing --
warm glow of lamplight, bas-relief of shadows
created by our tangled bodies.
Smoky sighs, whisperlight caresses, dreamy slow-slow stroking,
merging and melting, time and space stretching and folding
as we create our own intimate reality.

Spent and glistening, emptied and echoing, we are reluctant to break the silence
with empty words.
And so
we lie entangled still,
shadows crisscrossing heated skin,
fingers trailing along curve of breast and hip, shoulder and belly,
deep breathing in tandem a herald of intimacy.

Harsh ringing intrudes.
Time fractures and refragments, the telephone shrill and insistent --
until with a negligent flick you tumble it from the bedside
and leave it to squawk impotently into the carpet.
Impudence glitters in your eyes and I grin in return.

Drifting once more, fitted into and around and over each other,
rocking sensuously to and fro, enclasped sweetly within our private shadows.
The world outside can wait a while longer.

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