Bed of Poppies

Mother Night and Father Darkness had a son
Hypnos, the god of sleep
I dreamt of him often
living in the caves near river Lethe

Squid Ink sensuous moves
eyes black as pitch
whispers like satin wings
tenderly pouring his rich opium elixir
down my eagerly parted lips

A little sip
sweet rich velvet
all my cares forgotten
surrounded by lush blooming poppies
cradled in ebony
I would surely sleep
deep dark drowning

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