Sleepful Bliss

A poem inspired by Max Richter’s (composer) album Sleep

Her breasts rise and fall
Eyes wide shut
The stillness of night punctuated by breathe
A recurring and predictable rhythm

Clock-like precision as hands move
Ticking, tocking
Punctuating the deepest recesses of the mind
Poly-tempi inputs cause her to stir

The silk covers a shade of grey
Her arms above
Shoulder length brown hair unkempt
Woolen clouds hang overhead

The soft sounds of the night flow over the room
She turns her body
A movement to the left
Silken covers ebb and flow like the sea

Softly turn about in a dream-like trance
The softness of her breathe creates a simmering breeze
Melodically played calmness of the Cello
All is well, all is quiet

Hands on the clock move from minute to minute
Elapsing hours of shadows
Bittersweet tranquility as morning approaches
The dimness of grey transitions with an aura

Her breasts rise and fall
Eyelids flickering as dreams permeate her desirous mind
Breathe punctuating the tranquility
Rhythmically, unhindered, unbridled

A siren’s voice heard in far off lands
Alone, bereft, Solitudinal
Calm is the ocean of the morn where the wind blows not
Serene is the scene of grey and silk and wool and music

Sleep and dream in haste
A movement to the right
Her body lurches, the curve of her nape abrupt
Arms become restless, longing to be held

Silken covers removed as the heat of the night shines bright
A ray of light invades the room, its hue no longer grey
The beige of the headboard exposed
Long is the night that becomes dawn

A recurring and predictable rhythm
Silken covers ebb and flow like the sea
The hours have grown short
Alone, unhindered, strong, independent

Solemn strings announce the arrival of the morn
Her eyes open to the tranquility of silence
Arms untethered to meet the dawn
Awake, bereft, alert, alive

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