Beneath the sheets

Seven Thirty AM. The Alarm rings
and is promptly shut off.
The world outside is frozen with mist
and a winter mornings dew,
waking up to tumblers of filter coffee
sipped beneath the sheets.
Theres the sound of a tap running.
There must be someone in the bathroom.
Theres nothing much to do.
Its a holiday.
So I slip back
to create a magical world beneath the sheets.
Theres contentment as I hold your hand
And you tell me that this time we'll work it out.
Theres a tiny bit of greed: I'm only human.
A million warm sensations, tastes, touches,
whispers lips and tongues,
tingle their way into my brain.
Sleep takes me back into
this happy wold beneath the sheets,
and offers me a luxury - an orgasm of happiness.
Morning sets in. The traffic grows. Horns blare.
Newspapers arive. Another day begins
with the collapse of a beautiful world.

Its cold outside.