The Woman of my Dreams

The woman of my dreams is still undressed

in early morning woken up by light.

We make ourselves at home in this love nest,

convinced that everything will be all right.

The daybreak after fervent wedding night,

we´ll never quit this loving house arrest.

She´s stunning, lucky me, for gods a sight,

the woman of my dreams is still undressed.

With rapt attention watching how her chest

is heaving with each breath. She is of slight

and slender build, adorable at rest,

in early morning woken up by light.

Her perfect breast is shimmering pure white,

I cuddle up to her without protest.

We cover tracks of nightly pillow fight

and make ourselves at home in this love nest.

The table full with greeting cards, the best

I´m paging through again. For me they cite

as evidence - no dream! - we slept abreast,

convinced that everything will be all right.

I spot on my left shoulder a love bite.

All wishes are fulfilled and each request,

the first time future, I believe, looks bright.

Can´t get my eyes off her like one possessed,

the woman of my dreams.

Type of Poem: Rondeau Redouble