“Cock-a-doodle-do”

My guilty pleasures are totally free, in solitary silence I lie here too easily..this bed is my safe space, my own paradise.. so soft, sensual, Ooh it’s so nice..lying flat on my back as I hear the cock crow, he sits on my fence as he lets out his bellow.. each and every early morning is exactly the same, he teases me with his timing whilst calling his name

“Cock-a-doodle-do” I hear him yell, yes Mr. Cockerel it’s light I can already tell..”Good morning to you too my feathered friend, but I’m writing my poem and it requires an end” then just as if he has heard me he flys away, off on his mission of belting his bray.. at last the hush has returned once more, not a soul shall disturb me, I’ve closed my door.. so I am back on my back with my knees in the air, my duvet snuggles me everywhere, I think deep thoughts within my imagination, things of pure truth or facination

Locked in my imagary is totally bliss,  in my flight of fanciful, mental agility abyss..the shreds of threads that I conjure in my head as I lie cozily betwixt my bed, my gin and tonic without the gin, having a lie-in is never a sin, nor could it be ever committing a crime, coz at my time of life..I’m just taking my time..I’m done with the fastness of toing and froing, in a rush to get back from coming and going..today as I laze amidst my beautiful boudoir, my life and verse poems are my pinot noir