Morning Beckons

I feel the sun on my led filled eyelids

long before they dare open My mind is bombarded with flashing images of flesh on flesh

evoked by your scent alone I know that I must go

my phone screams

I am already late But as I lift the veil

succumbing to morning

like Medusa, you have me frozen in your gaze How could I possibly move?

when wrapped in your heavenly blanket

of silky cinnamon skin?