Hiraeth

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 White panels shift as soft skin is cusped by worn working hands

Small stars formed by the passing of sun grace fair shoulders

Dancing across the nose's bridge 

Forever leaving a trail that dainty fingers now glide across

Tangles of short kept hair 

Sliding beneath sleepy fingertips

A small flame builds as gentle warmth spreads beneath blankets

The faint beams of light

Flutter like eyelids

Onto a floor many have tread

In a room that's seen many lovers before

A steady beat 

Shared by two drums 

Echo between to hollow people

As the night rolls along

Writing its own song

Sung by a quiet choir

Begging to sing a passion

That can never be

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