The way you sleep...

The way you sleep in our bed is the way mist rises from the lake.

Brief and still – a magical and mystical apparition – a pale beautiful ghost.

Curls splayed on the pillow – a wild stillness and your soft scent rising. Tangled hair disappears into the pillow, your face silhouetted, a cameo that would dash great ships on even greater rugged rocks, if commanded. The corner of your eye holds my gaze to travel the distance of your cheek then along your chin and around your cheek to the sacred place below your ear. Below the soft skin, the rhythmic pulse of your blood setting the beat and tempo of my own heart

Your hand, a white lily on tea coloured sheets, caressing the back of lover or smoothing your skirt on your thighs. Your delicate fingers with opal coloured nails do not move. I am drawn to your hand now, because your hands are always moving. But here in your sleep, they are motionless – in fact, but for your breathing you are so very peacefully still...

Your sharp shoulders, white, strong, freckled with constellations are turned toward the mattress. Your strong straight back disappears beneath the quilt. The rolling hills of the quilt hint of your body and there is enough knowledge in my hands to know your landscape. Watching you sleep now, I know the lines and shapes and feel of you. I can follow the taper of your waist and the flare of your hips. I know the shape and texture of your round bottom and the feel of your thighs. I know the taste of the back of your knee and the feel of my lips pressed to your toes.

I cannot help but want to freeze this moment. I want to suspend it like hanging a Christmas ornament from a tree. Perfect, enclosed, beautiful in it's fragility – a place where my eye can wander to hold this moment. I want to find you here every time wake up. I want your heart to be anchored to this place, a bay sheltered from any storm.

Knowing that this moment cannot last for as long as it deserves to, knowing that the press of time and obligations will soon stir the calm surface of this sleeping still lake, and knowing that I am undeniably drawn to you... I place my hand over yours – sinew, bone, muscle, and flesh – and a wonder, held in my own hand. I place my lips to your temple, breath you in for a soft moment – and here I could stay an eternity... The mist rises from the stillness and is evaporated away by the sun... and you stir.

The way you sleep in our bed is the way mist rises from the lake...