It is dark,
And I feel your heat beside me vanish
But a second later soft hands pull the covers across my back
Tuck them in above my shoulders.
I drift
Feeling you there with none of my senses but all of them at once
Or perhaps that beyond sort of sense
The one that really matters
The one that tells us
Where we belong.
The shower murmurs from the other room
And I let the warmth of sleep take over again
And then all of a sudden there's your feet padding along the carpet.
I smile but don't open my eyes.
I listen
Instead
To you starting your day.
Your towel hits the floor softly
And I hear the rustle-whisper of clothes on skin,
The little thuds and crinkles as you move about the room,
The cascade of clinking as you rummage through your bag to find makeup,
The little tune you hum for a moment but don't realize.
I am greedy for the sound of you,
And I listen hard.
I hear you pause and look at me,
Decide I'm still asleep and turn on the light in the hallway with a click
Leaving the one nearest to me off.
I hear you sit down before the mirror cross legged
Like you do every day
And begin the rituals of preparing to meet the world.
I picture you
Don't let myself look yet
There in your leggings and t shirt
Your long hair falling wet and heavy over your shoulders
And little springy curls of it into your eyes
Your clear green eyes
The purposeful way you line them with black
Like the artist you say you aren't.
I picture the glow of the lamp kissing your face
And releasing the soft radiance your skin always seems to hold like a secret.
I long to open my eyes and gaze at you,
But not yet.
I turn, tangled in blankets,
Blindly shifting towards the sound of you.
The song you make by being.
The melody of your existence.
And when I lose the battle with myself and look up at you
You meet my eyes in the mirror and give me that small fond smile
The one that fills me up with light
And I feel the answering grin spread across my face like the sun breaking through clouds.
Good morning, love,
You sound like home.
"I celebrate myself, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."
"The song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun."
Walt Whitman