The possibilities are endless as the rain’s music forms,
as the steady rapid pattern,
fuels an inner storm,
guiding my cuddles, too surpass they’re actual, norm.
As my peer pressured arm, calls off,
unplugging the world’s, alarm.
After which I’d stir my rich coffee with your spoon,
as my hot brew would shake you awake,
too sip my sweet perculated juice,
and this time,
when I’m done with you,
I’ll simply ride you back to sleep and just write.
Until appetites decide otherwise,
of course we’ll order in,
as 2nd and 3rd waves of unharnessed passions begin.
While you thrust my ideas,
as target practice
between what’s left of an elongated pause,
as my mist evolves,
Right after our pillow fight,
and last exhausting plight,
we’d enjoy our dayed night,
as the blinds appear drawn,
the sweet darkness of the rain’s music,
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