Sleeping Beauty

Ascending the spiral staircase I reach an ancient wooden door.
With great difficulty it opens, exuding a low squeak, but no one stirs within.
The only light in the darkened room floods through a small stone-cut window.
There she lies on the straw bed peacefully asleep.
Her hair flows down her back like golden silk.
Even her clothes seem to be emitting her heavenly glow.
With a single finger, I trace the outline of her divine sillohuette lying on the bed.
I stare deeping into those closed eyes longing for them to stare back.
But there is only one way to wake this sleeping goddess.
Ever so carefully I take her angelic body into my arms.
Blood still pulses through her full, crimson lips.
With delicacy I gently kiss those lavish laps reveling in the ectasy.
Waking from her slumber, she joins in, kissing with fervor.
And I open my eyes, and she is staring back at me.