I am going

To the edge

Of the curtain

From the edge

Of the bed

Where you are


Where I was sleeping with you.

I have come from

The sheets and

Followed the soft

Light out of

The room

Into the light

Of another


With the cool

Shadows remembering

You in bed pushing

Yourself toward

Morning like a

Little boat on

A soft lake out

From the shore,

But I close the door

And watch you

Turnover in

The light.

    • dunstancarter
    • December 24th, 2010

    Lovely poem

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