I woke to the rain painting the windows;
abstract polka dots and rivers.
I woke to the silence of sleep,
your body beside me, wrapped in cotton sheets;
your breath whistling to and fro.
The rule is: whoever wakes first
makes the coffee, so I slip on
my dressing gown and my flip flops
too cold for September becoming October,
and take the stairs and hallway to the kitchen.
The rain is still bent on making a masterpiece
of the double glazed glass;
reflecting the green of the trees
onto the sink and cups which are drying.
Your custom is: to prepare the mugs and coffee
for the morning, a spoon in one
and the kettle waiting to be boiled.
This morning is the same as any other,
except you have left me a note
on blue bordered paper – a poem in fact –
which begins with the words
‘I love you’.
I imagine you smiling as you wrote it,
I re-read it four more times
as the kettle bubbles and steams.
I re-read it again as I fill each mug
and stir in the milk; I inhale
the scent of coffee and peace.
I thank the rain for the dreary start,
I thank you for the words
which I have closeted already
deep within my heart.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019