call out my name.
"Come," you whisper,
"slide.
On my body,
in my depths,
into my warmth,
my blankets of security.
Allow me to envelop and hold
you,
in my arms,
of satin, of lace,
of whichever you prefer,
wrapped tight within
my bosom, my abode,
ME -
when two can truly become One."
And I call that
an "Ode to My Bed" ; )
(....You're so vain - you probably thought this poem was about YOU.)
(Ok, ok - IT IS! YOU, and U and U & u & u & u & u & u...)
