Texture

The texture of those black out curtains,
a whistle that ruffles your hair.
Tickling all of your senses
with a shoulder massage. 
Tossing and turning 
rolling with the
cotton ghosts 
through the
night.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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Baker Avatar
August 4, 2025 at 6:31 PM
Nice Nonet poem, Melani. I really like the phrase, "rolling with the cotton ghosts". A poet friend in Texas, Bill
Udaeta Avatar
August 4, 2025 at 8:33 PM
Thank you. Blessings.
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