The Sheets

The sheets

I remember she smiled with tender lips
so pleasantly ghastly like luminous marble
part veiled by satin hair unbound in which
her restless breath once harboured.
And from the moonlit balcony
a gust of wind then found a way
to enter the appealing parlour
under silken sheets in mess
that hid her unclothed preciousness.
Thus charmed the very sheets alone,
by many a wind-provoked flutter,
in utter kittenish manner my mind
to succumb to inexhaustible thirst.
Just as they’d want to repay me in kind
for the angelic gift, so lively at first,
I had placed on them even if shortly thereafter
she met the maker of heaven and hell
and her flesh I left for the undertaker.