Morning Pas de Deux

I watch 
as the late Spring

pickpockets

tendrils of light 

from moony early hours 

long golden beams

widdle and worm

their way through my night

blindness

we stretch wide

the light

and

me

across well worn

white satin

sheets

so soon

we must

relinquish 

this quiet haven

to brave

the cacophonous world 

outside these walls

retaining grace is knowing

the memories 

we leave behind

remain

warm and deep

waiting

patient as a lover

for our return

in the amaranthine night