Wanting

I am a wanting woman,
lying in my loving bed.
White light streams through the curtains
and filters the goldens and creams and roses of my room.

The pillows, sheets and covers make me alive.
They tell me of my wantingness.
It is serene and silent here.

I lazily dream, half awake,
of kisses on my neck and legs wrapped with mine.
Soft breathing and hands loving my body.
Pulsing, warm, sweet, slow passion.

Wanting.