Musings by The Poet Loriet
Bedchamber Butterflies
Resplendent light spills
in stained glass waves
of greens, blues and reds--
paints a rainbow
across your peaceful slumber.
You lie with sprawled legs,
tucked in velour softness,
rugged shadow
beneath your chin.
Your lips part slightly
with sleepy deep breaths
of morning air.
I feel as if I'm tucked
away from the real world
veiled in this bedchamber
by ornate brocade
velvet curtains.
For this night only,
I'm someone else--
a princess in my indigo
evening gown,
gold lace swirling
across my breasts,
where your head lies
like a little boy's
in soft repose.
I smooth back your hair
and sigh...
wishing we could grasp
this moment tightly--
yet my fingers loosen
even now,
knowing that,
like a gentle butterfly,
all things eventually
must be freed.
Lori Beal
in stained glass waves
of greens, blues and reds--
paints a rainbow
across your peaceful slumber.
You lie with sprawled legs,
tucked in velour softness,
rugged shadow
beneath your chin.
Your lips part slightly
with sleepy deep breaths
of morning air.
I feel as if I'm tucked
away from the real world
veiled in this bedchamber
by ornate brocade
velvet curtains.
For this night only,
I'm someone else--
a princess in my indigo
evening gown,
gold lace swirling
across my breasts,
where your head lies
like a little boy's
in soft repose.
I smooth back your hair
and sigh...
wishing we could grasp
this moment tightly--
yet my fingers loosen
even now,
knowing that,
like a gentle butterfly,
all things eventually
must be freed.
Lori Beal
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Bedchamber Butterflies
Bedchamber Butterflies