Loose thread

You are like a loose thread in my minds secret room.
Simultaneously a quilting and a query.

I wrap your essence around me and pad barefooted along this carpetless floor
seeking a white couch and seafoam paintings.
The images of the home that lives in dream.

longing to fall asleep to music
whilst watching you drum a pencil along your desk.

You pause…while I ponder
the underside of your duvet cover…what a passionate shade for such a quiet man.

These loose threads lead somewhere.