IN THE SLEEP STATION        
by Shelagh Mercedes
         

Seven o’clock and the day is waiting for me to get up and do something magnificent.
But my sleep train has passed through a dreamscape too delicious to leave
So perhaps the most magnificent thing I’ll do today is lie here and not
move for another hour.
So I curl up tighter and move further down into the covers hoping to find that magic
sleeping place again.

He stirs beside me, awakened by my movements.  It is his second dawning.
He is always first to rise, before me or the sun, and begins the day quietly
Lest he wake me, or the sun, too quickly.

But often the warmth of the bed beckons him and as is his wont he returns hoping to
catch a ride on my sleep train.
He knows I like to wake to the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body keeping
The chill of morning at bay.

Now this sleep hobo feels the train slow down and as he prepares to leave he stretches
His long legs, ready to leap from the comfortable berth.
I move closer to him, my naked body drawn to his furnace.

Like a train pulling into a station spilling out riders to the waiting arms of long ago
friends,
He reaches out and welcomes me into his sleep heavy arms.
He pulls me closer as he steps off the sleep train into Morning.
His eyes, heavy with the ride, open slowly, reluctantly, and he buries his nose in my hair.
In slow easy movements his hand traces love notes on the canvas of my back,
And my face finds that special nestling spot under his chin and I breathe in his aroma,
Rich with man-scent and scratchy from beard trying to gain purchase on his face.

He reaches low on my back and pulls me tight against him pressing his early morning
desire into the softness of my belly, and I smile.
Still lingering on the train, wanting to be the last one off, I reach around his broad back
And pull him closer to me and with a sigh I signal acceptance of this early morning
offering of communion.

No preambles, no wild passions or fireworks this morning, just a simple love gesture of
Oneness, harmony and a reminder that this is who we are.

At the intersection of Sleep and Waking he moves comfortably into me and like train
cars Coupling we connect and in that connection we are content and happy, rocking
gently Like the rhythm of a train moving in a familiar but well-loved track.

We greet the day at the Sleep Station, and in that moment of greeting, renew, once
again, the passion of traveling together.
Shelagh Mercedes is writer and artist currently living in Atlanta, Georgia.  She has
spent a lifetime working with words and color.  Words are the coins of her realm and
she spends them lavishly.
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