by a bladder then a cat.
Thoughts circling around
mounds of memory
vales of worry
paths of imaginary
Desperately searching for Slumberella…
She’s waiting casually
in the shadows, drawing me in slowly.
we embark on a three-minute stand
So deliciously seductive and smooth.
Then the clock strikes six;
Oh but we were only getting going!
Slumberella teasingly takes her leave;
hotfoots it to last night,
leaving me to face the day
with a long hangover of desire,
confusion and wistful wondering.
The memory of her touch lingers on
to get me through the day,
anticipating Slumber’s familiar joyful caress,
I wonder – will she be there tonight?
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