I prefer to die in my sleep

Darling Edeath!
You're so beautiful
To that transparent dress.
Touch me slowly
As I am scared of your fingernails.
I am not in a mood and let me sleep peacefully
Do not wake me up early.
Bring your kite to the garden of night
Let it go so high and let loose the knot
As you do to the others
And wind takes me away
Wherever she goes!

* A Mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
-Victor Hugo