Tommorow I will wake up and you will be lying against me. Our scents mingled on the pillow. All the books will be written and I will drink black coffee and look at their spines aligned neatly on our bookshelf. I can watch barefoot the sun rise without the need to move for a more perfect view. My mind will be the ancient cathedral and me its  solitary monk. Peace. Sunlight pouring through the stained glass. Tommorow I will wake up next to you clothed only in sun