In the sleepless dark of the early hours,
In my comfortless single bed
Every inch of me cries out
To be held, warmed, caressed,
For my curvy, feminine softness to be molded
Against the reassuring planes and angles
Of your loving, gentle masculinity.
Your voice, your eyes, your smile
Haunt my reluctant wakefulness
Yet wait comfortingly in my dreams.
- The emotional wanderer