Treasure Island

Lisa Weeks


Adored in Somnolence


He curls up behind her
His every curve
Melting into her own.
The setting sun
Reflects from the lake
And dances across the ceiling
Like the aurora borealis
And they watch the display
In sleepy silence.
The temperature slowly drops.
He pulls the cover higher
On her.
For the first time in her life,
She feels safe.
His hand cups her breast,
As she drifts to dreaming,
With a tiny smile on her face.
He kisses her hair
And follows her.
Goodnight.

© 2012

Submitted: Monday, January 20, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, January 21, 2014

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