2010 WARM Writing Competition - Open Poem Winner

2 A.M.  by John McMaster

It’s 2 a.m.

Shalimar’s evocative fragrance

stirs my sleeping senses,

the subtle allure of its enticing aroma

arousing my addled brain

from its restless repose.

The faintest, ghostly whisper –

sotto-voce almost –

more a sigh than words,

begs my response.

Timidly,

tenderly,

tentatively,

I seek the warmth of your body beside me,

searching, ever so gently

for the seductive pout

of your enticing lips.

I brush – not kiss –

your melliferous mouth

and wonder at the sweetness

of the touch.

Waking now, whispering sweet-nothings,

I crave the comforting curves

of your familiar, female form –

just to hold, to savour,

the wonder of love’s embrace.

It’s 2 a.m. -

now I’m awake

and you’re not there

and never will be,

 except for distant, dreamy delusions.

At 2 a.m. -

At 2 a.m. -

At 2 a.m.