I wake in the quiet hours When the world is sleeping I roll over, drawn to your warm and soft skin You roll over and groan Waking from the world of dreaming Mumbling beautiful nothings in your French smoky tone In the dark, my senses guide my lips to yours and you pull me home
You gently rise I listen to your sweet steps as they meet the floor The waking aroma of the espresso fill my lungs You return to the still room I hear the crinkling as you roll your morning cigarette I slowly lift my head My heavy eyes meet yours and you know what my heart is saying