Overture

Sleep, you gentle lover
Who wakes me with a morning palm, a touch so soft
Who turns down the bandage blanket, leaking warmth
So my naked iceberg shoulder, stands exposed
To our memories together, now travel's closed.

I turn to watch you dress,
To drape Diana's gold contours with evening guilts
Rewoven from the remnants of that wasted day
By even fingers threading casual strands
You collected from the beaches of the night
Where tokens of our deepest love stroll hand-in-hand.

Please, sleep, don't leave me yet,
The morning glow can endure just one more kiss;
Intimate, engage me so we may interlace
The sunlight summer striated on our embrace,
But frightened by imperfections of the early light
You disengage reluctant from my plight
To slip away and vanish in the human race.

Nik Habermel, May 1995