Brian Louis Pearce

Poet and Novelist

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An eye
opens and looks at me
as late, after midnight,
the poem tentatively
waking and making within me,
for the once justified, I
creak into our room.

An eye
opens and looks at me,
shuts, and is still.
She speaks to me tiredly
then turns and sleeps easily
almost before I
have entered the room.

An eye
closes and but for the sea
of her breathing her body is still
save for one whispered enquiry
if of the daemon within me
even one night I
am free in our room.

An eye
closes. She sleeps, with her knee
drawing up and then still.
Watching her tenderly
I muse on the mystery
of the she and the I
given life in this room.

An eye
closes. I see
she is restless and turn out the light.
Now is my reverie
ended as, sleepily,
the poem curls down: I
and she making room.

Leaving the Corner, Stride

© Brian Louis Pearce

This page last revised 29 October 2000