Metamorphosis

 
Every night, when they went to bed,
   she spun a cocoon about herself
   of blankets, sheets, duvets, 
 
While he slept adjacent,
   clinging to the edge,
   strangely content,
 
Knowing that, in the morning,
   she would emerge,
   spreading her wings,
 
Fluttering him
   with love
   and scrambled eggs.