Burning dot of Western sun,
Wringing old Winter’s hurt out of me.
Makes me sleepy soft,
Bending me gently,
Sprawled on the carpet next to you.
I feel the burst of each photon,
Watching it twist and swing though your hair,
It’s a million tiny monkeys,
Bouncing through the bright strands.
I blow near your ear.
And the golden curtain over your face shifts colors,
Parting like sand.
I see you smile,
And feel able to sleep.