Sleepy sheets soaked with silvery light
drape across naked flesh
heart to heart, beat to beat, smile to smile.
Sunday mornings are never meant to be this
exploding peace in the gentle white room
unexplained utterances and hushed voices.
Delirious as those girls she always laughed at,
Without inhibition or motivation or direction
she presses her soft, warm skin against something
she doesn’t understand.
Just let it be.
Don’t think too hard.
Closed eyes sink into a bottomless dream
Once again in an unknown territory with
wild, sensual magnolia and cherry trees
dotting lush black fir on the mountain’s peaks
floating in a faint scent of vanilla.
Good morning.
Good morning, beautiful.
Last night was.
No more words come forth in the enveloping silence
sealing in the secret letter of lost purity
stamped with the ancient rite of passage.
Shhh.
Just let it be.