When morning melts away the night
and sunshine streams across your face,
I am the spirit in that light,
I am the afterglow you taste.
The mirrored image in the glass,
An empty robe, two patting feet,
A feathered touch across your ass,
The scent that lingers in your sheet.
My powdered residue of snow,
So winter sweet, that coats your cock,
Will melt like springtime overflow.
You are the key; I am the lock.
