But
don't move yet!
Was
it a rainbow, a whirlpool, or a lion headed cumulus cloud that you imagined in
the instant before you awoke?
Could it have been the shape of the apple tree under which you lay, not so long ago, gazing wistfully between leafy branches up at the stars? They seemed much brighter then, didn't they? When he was with you. More numerous than they'd ever been before. Dazzling and cold with a diamond hard, unimaginable brightness. Because you were in love and in its gleam you lay counting carefully, and eventually found, thirty four thousand of them, in the crooked triangular confines of Cassiopea alone.
Faintly, the echoes of the dream swirl behind your eyes when you consider how love's awakening has left you.
Eager and hungry on the stony shores of this pale new morning.
All alone and wanting more.
Muddle headed and shivering you yawn and stretch and heave half heartedly at the bedclothes, push newfound legs out from under the bedcovers, force still half asleep feet to reach down in search of the floor.
Can you still remember the time when you were virginal?
Ah! Of course you can.
It seems so long ago now doesn't it? One day, one week, a whole month ago.
Or was it more than that?
A few hours or perhaps an entire lifetime ago.
And still, some regrets, but tiny ones, for you are glad to be rid of it, even if, sometimes only vaguely, the remnants of other dreams still linger.
Because now you are awake!
So you think about him, and the thoughts which have awoken you, sleepy maiden this fine morning, he who has taken you out of your own special dream.
Listen! He calls you from the distance, from the forest where he is hunting.
Can you hear his call to you?
Soon he'll be banging at your door, hot, sweaty, rank with the blood of his prey. Demanding entry so you must dream no longer. Get up quickly and scamper, bare footed, crinkle nippled, eagerly downstairs to greet him. Even though you've forgotten to wake up entirely, to put on your slippers, your nightdress or even your face. Just look at those eyes, those lips, that shivering, slumber drained skin. Pale, almost transparent with anticipation and longing.
Take care on the stair and pay heed to the slippery mat in the hallway.
Now He bangs, heavy with longing and patience is not one of his virtues Hurry! Hurry!! Turn at the foot of the stair and catch your breath, panting with exertion and excitement until, with a squeak and creak of reluctant hinges, in the gush, the gulf, the wide open gape of the doorway He stands there grinning. All teeth and tan and mouse chewed hair, overcoat big enough to cover a pair of horses. A mocking laugh, a sweeping bow but still you snatch at his hand and, holding it tightly, run away with him, far away with him, deeper into the forest than you have ever been before, deeper and deeper till the tree trunks' hugeness forbids you to run any further.
Then deeper still 'til all the world is boles and branches, breathtaking and endless, a bower of light and shade in thrall to his need.
Then there is new life, old love and mother earth's comforting bosom, warmly scented with pollen and dew, in silence softened shafts of pale sunlight which curtain the bed of meadowsweet and moss he lies you in.
© Aahlu 2010
Awake
by
Aahlu
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Fri, 2nd April, 2010
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