The Future Perfect

Sunday morning; frost glistens on gravel hard as granite. Dogs bark at shadows fading in the rising sun. Madie shuffles downstairs in her slippers to stir the embers and the kindling crackles. I snuggle and snuffle further down into the bedding for a dream or two. A princess invites me to dance; I fight a duel with dragon;or ride a stallion across a meadow. Then the bedding moves and soft limbs disturb my den, stealing my precious comfort with her sudden chill. Her long legs wind around my body and share the warmth of my dark and secret place. Now we meld in mutual pleasure and the world slips away.