My Pen

My pen sits, alone and silent,
as a cold that chills to the bone
penetrates my senses.

Tired eyes rest in downward repose
and thoughts of a warmer place
seep through the sleep-deprived fog. 

Thoughts of arms that hold me close
and a heart that beats in rhythm with mine
sheltering me in a circle of content.

Thoughts of eyes that draw me in
and hold me captive, completely at my will,
immersing me within a pool of desire.

Thoughts of a voice that soothes me;
trickles through me like sunshine in my blood
warming me, from the inside out.

And words from your heart 
whisper into my pen. 



october 2007
Janet Reid




 
Awarded by Poetic Constellations