I wait for you in the morning sun <br />the morning sun. <br />Here in the morning sun, <br />its light burning, burning <br />my back <br />setting my hair alight <br />searing underneath your sleeping eyes. <br />I’m high up over the sea, <br />the scent of salt and sex <br />covering my skin, <br />the twinkling waves crashing, <br />crashing, crashing <br />below. They know the stories, <br />the waves carry the stories <br />we told each other last night, <br />the narrative of our hands, <br />your neck spread open <br />over my mouth <br />like an alphabet of apricots. <br />I lean on the balcony, <br />I move and stretch my legs, <br />I touch my wounds <br />and lick the taste of your breath <br />still warm on my lips <br />as the sea breeze <br />with its cool tongue <br />lashes it baubles across my chest. <br />Magnificent, I reflect onto you, <br />slipping handfuls of sun, sun, sun <br />across the still sheets <br />where you lie <br />and I fill your sleep <br />with the things I’ve still got left <br />to give to you. <br />I have baskets of creases, <br />I have palms full of warm dough, <br />I have a jacket made of jasmine, <br />I have two eyes that serve love <br />fresh on a plate with dripping fruit. <br />I have you all over me. <br />I listen to the sky, <br />the sky holding your thumps, <br />holding the sound of your hips, <br />placing drifting clouds inside the day, <br />promising a distant thunder later <br />again as we lie side by side <br />tracing mazes into our faces. <br />You have not stirred. <br />The sheets retain your shape. <br />You sleep there, <br />your form like an oriental country, <br />slow and hot and aromatic. <br />The day rises from your breasts. <br />I look down. <br />The beach is full, full, full of people. <br />I close my eyes. <br />How after seeing you like this, <br />as glorious as this, <br />can I ever look <br />at another person in the same way?<br /><br />Oliver Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sun-10/
