Morning

I come awake in the still
of the morning — the time
when sight is teased by
by dawn’s promise —
as her hair falls around me
and her scent fills my world.
Even in the dim light I can find
the fleck of gold in her green
eyes, my next breath held when
her fingers skim my skin.
The load of worry and the burdens
present the night before
no longer hold sway in this room.
Fear and uncertainty join
the heap of clothes
at the end of the bed,
issues for another time.

Bedroom Window Sunrise (Photo credit: ex_magician)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the Sunday Whirl

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