Metamorph

Cocooned amidst a soft white room
Whelmed within as in a womb
A lovely lady sound asleep
Closed into her private keep

Each night enwrapped into her bed
A supple pillow beneath her head
Naked as the primal eve
Though woven in a linen sleeve

As morning breaks to break the gloom
She slow emerges from her tomb
Raising blinds inviting light
To set aside forgotten night

 

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