i wake and the angel of summer sleeps beside me
his grace-warmed skin against my sheets
breath pouring from his lips
sandalwood-sweet and honey-golden

my stirring wakes him
curled as he is against me
our legs ivy-twined and sap-sweat sticky

his eyes open
his moonlight gaze touches on the bow-curve of my mouth
his fingers wind in my hair
brushing just behind my ear
the way evening breezes stroke the petals of soon-to-close flowers
a caress so terribly feathersoft and gentle

and when he speaks his voice is primrose dark
and ripe with promise
filling my bones with aching

"go back to sleep my love"