Arlene Corwin Poetry

They wake –well, ‘wake’ is not the word.

Lids refusing opening, muscles slack,

Wakefulness alone marking awareness.

Arm reaching left, remote device bedside,

Sliding, a mere automaton

Reaching near, she presses On;

Lo, light, sound and the television.

Still, the eyes are shut,

Yet something’s wakened.

Lying still, an arm embraces;

Bodies in slow motion snake-en.

Unidentifiable, un-nameable, encased

In one another’s arms, things happen –

Young, fresh, hippy Happening

Straight from the ‘Swinging Sixties’.

Here’s a pair way past their 60’s

Rising high above the years,

Skies above their years

Entranced, in love, enlivened,

Eyes blinked open where

The mini-moans of pleasure bear

Some mini-tears of joy.

^{Lazy Love 7.23.2016}

^{Circling round Eros II; Love Relationships II;}

^{Arlene Corwin}