Afternoons

Some afternoons I spend,

Cuddled with you in a blanket,

Although the warmth-

that exists in the sun's casket (afternoon),

WE might only look at the comfort,

Talk what not; of one another...

I have a sense of these afternoons,

We'll have nothing to do,

Yet the one to lament-

that shall be you,

Excused only to talk to me,

Shower your embrace poetically...