Sonya, So Far

The whirring of the ceiling fan
Masquerading as lullaby;
The heat rises
Spilling the egg yolk moon
In a yellow tapestry…
A mellow gold Klimt
Through my bedroom window.

This is the hour of the wolf.
When cats moan
And howls of Nyx turn hearts of clams
Into pearls.
When green monsters and rabid men
Raid the gutter
For happiness.

This is the hour of her arrival.
Gliding on satin wings
Through the clouds of marijuana,
She, the unassuming goddess
Of spells and charms…
A sudden epiphany.
An ancient therapy.

There she glows! The rise of Freya!
I swim in a thick broth of dreams
Of her languid silence and long limbs,
Her never ending sea of blonde –
Before sleep steals her from me
With a hint of a distant promise…
Sonya, so far!

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