Preslumber Meditation

Clothed only in the shroud of night
We lovers lie with limbs entwined
Locked in our affection’s hight
T’wards Morpheus our minds inclined

His head rests softly on my breast
Fingertips tenderly tracing my spine
A sigh escapes my lips unstressed
Drunk on love’s sweet sticky wine

His breathing slows as sleep sets in
Eyelids heavy ‘neath dream-sand’s weight
Our self-same tranquil states begin
Drowsily dreaming alongside my mate.