To Lie In Wait.

Blackness matchless greets eyes from deep slumber. Calmness worthy of ducks on a pond oozes from pores. Sensation skulks in bedroom corner slowly crawling… …the length of the room. A scrape here, a rasp there, awareness that one is not alone. A fragrance like freshly plucked rose pedal hits the senses. Fortitude in backbone disbands as a glow of warmth… …moves along spine like rays from setting sun. Coldness is all that is felt as mist in shadow covers blankets. Sickly sweet and overpowering it cloys to the psyche. Slouching within time not daring to move… …senses come alive.