I wake,

Sleepy eyed,

Bereft of sleep,

I think of you.

I think of your lips,

I think of your eyes,

In which I could sleep,

No lies.

I think of your breasts,

Each soft mountain,

And I wonder if you,

Will let me travel

Downwards.

I am lost in your breath,

It sucks me in,

It blows me out,

Regardless.

I am within you,

And you,

Within me.

Let the winds blow,

Let the tempests grow,

I am yours,

Be mine,

Please.

                             _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Owain Glyn