She wakens up at midnight;
Those thoughts are in her head,
Her heat is twirling, swirling,
She stumbles out of bed.
She gets a glass of water,
The water’s nice and cool,
It soothes her dry parched body,
As if she’s in a pool.
She dives back beneath the covers,
She tosses round and round,
The night is dark and quiet,
Without a human sound.
She lies midst sleep, half-dreaming,
The spirits in her head,
She feels a presence near her,
Is someone in her bed?
The steam begins to rise,
The vapors fill that bed,
She slips off her lacy satin,
Pulls her nightie ‘oer her head.
She thrusts and aches and arches,
Oh will he come again,
And lusts and moans and longs for,
That very Prince of Men.
Now the dawn light beams upon her,
She sleeps with smile on face,
A soft pink glow surrounds her,
The peace of cupid’s grace.
The bed is still half empty,
The sheets are tossed and turned,
But the pillow lies indented,
A visitor? as yearned.