When the screaming is done you need a place to sleep

Perfection lies in the turn of an ankle and the curve of a hip  
Beneath his bedcovers she feigns sleep
Early morning is his time 
Water beyond his window beckons
Humidity saturates the air 
Night time warmth lingers
Fog obscures the earth
Lightning strikes a transformer
Blue-white sparks glow
Thunderclouds release a river of rain
Leaving him free to treasure the richness of his sleeping beauty