My Thanks in a Private Dawn
by Kristine Schubert writing as HaydenStar
Outside, the vanilla sky moves on,
beyond tall oaks and fallen leaves of
red and orange and fading green;
past yellow headlights of the early morning commute.
The sun has not, will not, peek from that
vanilla sky today. I have captured the sun
and am keeping it for when you wake.
I will place a bit of the sun in your coffee.
I lay awake hearing the sounds of you asleep,
the world, and hold my wrists up in the white air,
black leather circling snug, and the tiny
lock on each silver buckle,
and I remember the savory hours before,
the click of the locks and silk swoosh of rope
as your hands tied me as you desired. How
your eyes smiled as mine wept.
And now, your coffee is here on the bedside table
with plumes of rising heat, and I kneel down, hold
within my hands my captured sun, offer to you,
the glorious morning of my gratitude.
So that when you turn and stretch and open
your tanned eyes, when your dreams still
lay on the tip of your tongue, you will see
the morning, and taste the sweet butter of
our private dawn.
(C) Copyright 1998 Kristine Schubert
All rights reserved. Please do not send by electronic means or post to
any bulletin board or web page without the author's written consent.