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
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.