Awake…for a Moment

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As the night withers asunder the rising sun, I lay, eyes wide I dream of you, watching the ceiling watch me.  While the hands of my watch creep at a slow spiral your image hovers above.  An angelic Queen resting on a pillow of clouds.  She breathes softly.  Through the haze the tender flesh of your lips curl into a smile.  I adore you lovingly.  Turning away, I rest…

Malik Honor

Copyright 2011 All Rights Reserved

Queen in the Wilderness

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  Rays shower his body as he rises to the Sun of the dawn.  His morning breath elicits a saccharine scent.  He wonders where – oh, he remembers, the taste of her remains from the day before.  He smiles.  Recollection affords images of her sleek frame.  Slender, she steps with a felines gait.  Her glide seems effortlessly calculated.  She could bound through any unbeaten path in Central Park, blindfolded, gracefully remaining on her toes he’d bet, though he is not a gambling man.Wait.  How did he end up in this casino with this mountain of chips?  And what’s this in his pocket – a winning lottery ticket?  Running, he pulls the levers to a row of slot machines hearing the crescendo of coins as they fill the trays.

Jackpot.

Blackjack, backgammon, poker table visions dissipate.  The man sits perpendicular to the wall.  He thinks of her, he’d in the clouds, face to the ceiling.  Her regal essence has him bedazzled with enchantment.  Remembering her palace, the gold and crimson throne set against the wall…

A Queen.  Last night he made love to a Queen.

“A Queen,” he whispers to the walls.  How does her crown fit atop such a splendid mass of hair?  And, and, and where are her servants?  And where are the buglers to announce her arrival?  Alas, what a grand Queen she must be to live devoid of such luxuries.

A Queen in the wilderness of Brooklyn.  Smiling to himself he stands and stretches, body aglow with sunlight.  Walking to the washroom he wonders about her king.  Why isn’t he with her?  Where is he?  Rinsing his face in the sink with both hands he blindly grabs the towel off its hook.  Wiping his eyes, he looks at his reflection before reaching for the heavy gold crown resting on a wooden table to the right of the washbowl.

Placing the crown on his head he stands erect before walking to the window overlooking his kingdom.

No buglers or servants welcome his presence, only the trees wave to him and he returns their greeting with a nod and a smile.  Serenity swells his soul whilst fresh air swells his buxom.

He sighs a sound of sweet relief.

A Queen.  A lovely Queen.

Malik Honor

Copyright 2011 All Rights Reserved