end of a muffled day,
not much to report
not much to do,
so I am going to bed early.

I fold myself-
– half-clothed
between sheet and doona,
warmth is like
a mother bringing milk and stories.

I think of you, your sweet smile
careful, laughing hands
your in breath, your out breath
And suddenly-
I realised I don’t know the difference!

I snuggle down, and resolve
I must see you tomorrow.
I have to see you again – soon;
So I might know
Almost perfectly-

Your in breath and your out breath.

March ’06


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

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All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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