One sliver of newborn sunlight stretches across

the sleep-wrinkled sheet that covers our slowly waking forms.
It dances, the rhythm of an ocean wave,
as the ceiling fan sways the curtains.
Your palm finds the curve of my breast,
dreamily continuing to explore, elsewhere.
As we draw closer to wakefulness,
our hands entwine and our eyes open.
Morning sings its subtle alarm, as we come
together, wrap ourselves in arms and legs…

…writhing with the dawn.

This has been a Wicked Wednesday post.  The prompt this week was – “Writhe”.  Check out the site to see who else is playing.

In keeping with my poetry challenge to write all of the forms found on The Poet’s Garret, this is an aubade – a poem or song that greets the morning.

2 Replies to “Sex at Dawn”

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