One o’clock in the morning

and my brain is tired, tattered,

chained to checkered thoughts,

and helplessly spinning

like a desperate wheel upon an icy road.

A word-catcher past midnight,

I sat under the florescent light,

Musing on a carnival of thoughts,

When suddenly the phone rang.

“Hello, darling! Are you alone?”

“Shall I sing a song for you?”

“Need you ask?” was my reply.

Then you crooned in my tired ear

Songs about the sea and the sky

And how seasonal sorrow was to all of us.

We were flying then, I knew it,

Flying back to heaven where we first started.

My lips brushed against your belly;

My hands clutched your moaning hips,

And you softly said “Dream with me.”

Your voice was in my flesh,

Its softness warming every tissue,

As it ran wildly through my bloodstream.

Strangely thereafter, that same morning,

I shut the alarm, looked around, then…