It’s something in the way
you peek through the door to see me
brush my teeth at night.

Or the way that my tousled bed head
finds its nest in the warmth
between your arm and chest.

Always the right side, never the left.

When I imagine you leaving,
I wonder where my cheek will rest
when the light creeps softly through the window
each morning
When I realize I’m no longer dreaming.

Because you are the way the sun sings
to the earth, absolving all doubt in darkness.

You are the way love looks
when she is reborn
Day after day.

-Anna Blake