In The Morning

There was movement beneath

the sheets, this morning,

an arm looping gently about a waist,

a handful of light kisses painting

a gallery upon a back.


There was movement in the morning dark,

a time and space hitherto

left empty.

A quiet step upon treadless daylight,

a body shaded in slumber,

embraced by the retreating moon’s chill.


In listening to a muffled shower,

water cascading down a daydream,

the witching hour shadows fade and

my eyes flutter to the light

beneath the door hazy and changing

in rhythm with your movement.


In saying goodbye you are dressed

in the day ahead,

a vision of the future and what happens

when you leave this bed.

I’m left in your perfumed air,

every last trace of you sinking

into my night filled pores.


Image credit. 

6 thoughts on “In The Morning

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