AM Fever

Even in the dawn
as birds come alive with small twitters and jeers,
the feel of your large hand flickering
under sheets and fabric
awaken me to a world of
lust.

When our lips merge, the soft sound of us parting
just to breathe is like coming alive
from a state of comatose.

Your whispers in my ear
as I dig my back deeper into the mattress
force me to squeeze my legs shut.
Your hands protest as they push them apart once more.

From the beauty of your being
to the sound of music wafting from your voice,
I find a fever wracking havoc on my frame
in the early morning to come.