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 DECADENCE



With decadent thoughts
We stayed in bed
To savour our closeness still
The breeze brushed the branches
Outside in the cool
And lay leaves upon the sill

How wonderful
This behaviour
When we should be about our chores
Holding the temptation
For the feeling is right
The only place is indoors

Scant regard
To the telephone
And the doorbell
That rang non-stop
Curled upon a soft eiderdown
Dreams were harvested in crop

You traced
A message down my spine
Feathery gentle strokes
We didn't need
To interpret it
In our eyes the passion shows






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