The tenth poem from my poetry collection Conception.

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The Rocking Chair

The slumbering slope of your chest sings
to me a silent lullaby
as sleep slips under my eyelids.

My body glides back and forth on waves of tiredness,
soothed by the sound of your lap-curled heartbeat;
your soft sighs filling out my sails.

I drift along on drowsy still waters,
until I’m called abruptly back to land
by your creased-face squall.