A January sonnet

A sonnet for a warm morning in January.

At least if  you're inside, in a warm bed.


"arousing at sunrise"

Awakened not by birdsong as the dawn
exchanges light for nighttime's dark, but by
an e'en more lovely brush of touch -- a faun 
upon his pipes could play a lullaby

appropriate for this sweet time, yet skill- 
fully she plays a better instrument; 
her fingers and her embouchure both thrill 
the music in my soul and meld a pent-

up longing with romance. She singly winks 
at me while I explore a tandem scope –
a blend of lips and tongues, yet what one thinks 
a kiss is diff'rently aligned with hope

for passionate fulfillments shared between 
the dreams and sighs and thighs of king and queen.