T.W.James

Morning Worship

Waking, I roll over and turn to look at you.

You lie there, your smooth gentle skin lit with the warm, soft glow of the morning light that glances unimpeded by the half drawn blind. 

Your hair, flecked with gold lies steamed across the pillow.

The white sheet, barely concealing the wondrous, curvaceous form that lies beneath, slowly slips from the  shoulder.

I gaze in wonder at the object of my worship. The goddess of my shrine and hearth.

As I move, you stir... 

Your eyelids open,

Your eyes gradually raise towards my own,

And as you smile... your rose like lips, curved into a bow-flexed and ready with its arrow- I feel enveloped by your love.

And as your lithe arm slides out from underneath the sheet and rises towards me almost like a benediction I fall down, worshiping you with my kisses.