Bedroom.
Morning dreams left tingles.
I reach to your funky skin,
so many miles from here, warm.
Overnight, I’m sure dreamsweat
collected in the long dip of your spine.
I run my fingers over your shape,
soft pillows moulded to dunes.

Kitchen.
Parched dishes beg for water,
a sassy preparation, empty of mind
but with foam and cream that soft,
your strong arms grab my waist,
lift me over cold steel.
Dirty plates crash to the ground.

Bathroom.
Garments flung to laths,
impatient they are strewn piled,
I jump into the sea,
roll in waves and spins
spooned by you in the drizzled tide.

Dressing room.
Hanging the future, layer by layer,
each one a glorious evening
under our crimson moon.

Bedroom.
Though it is barely noon
I close my door and eyes
to spend more time with you.

Sonja Broderick

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-den/