The Excitement of Bed

I hold her like a blanket, warm and tight
She’s softer than my quilt of fluffy down
On top of me, she’s nearly feather-light
She’s comfortable around me, like a gown
Extend this metaphor and fall asleep
It’s true, I like to hold her in my bed
But dreams are not the only place I keep
My woman.  I’m not stupid, lame, or dead!
Presumptively, I keep myself prepared
For her arrival; any place or time
I’m glad I have the balls and that I dared
To go beyond mere metaphors and rhyme
She’s more than just sonnettic words; I know!
She trusts me far beyond some status quo.

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