Morning Voyeur

Morning Voyeur

Morning creeps through the window pane.
Stealthy voyeur of silence ascendant.
Yet silence speaks, echoes, stains.
There is a poem writ blatant
upon the sheets in cotton furrows and phantom forms.

The mute air shakes from the departing.
The walls whisper and reflect
poetry in motion and lustful devotion unguarded.
The dust settles softly and recollects
whirlwinds and gasping storms.

Morning wraps the remnants of laughter
that lay discarded in the tranquility.
The gentle sweet words that came after
bloom in serenity
and transform.