You write about us
taking long walks,
leaving footprints in sand,
lying down
on grass
sipping wine & sunshine.
I write about
how I curl
in your body,
becoming so small
in your chest;
waves of silk sheets
crash on our skin
as I surf on your body,
floating
in ecstasy.
The world is magical:
the scent of petrichor
in colourful meadows,
the sound of waterfalls
splashing under rainbows;
but nothing is as magical
as you and me
cuddling
under our sheets.