Sketching Me Poem by Gordon R Menzies

My bed is a cloud above the river
a riot of new pillows and the scent
of a woman drifting over me
I float slow over running water
where small bits of rainbow lost
spin slowly on the ceiling, cast
by the jewel she hung there
in the broad eastern window
sun gathers on the balcony now
reaches in to touch our clothes
scattered like drunken men
arms and legs, left and right
fallen there the night before
shamed by Sunday morning
Her fingertips trace me slowly
giving form to my mistiness
sketching me in rumpled sheets
until I am drifting free no longer