Little streams of light
sneak past the curtains.
Early Sunday morning.
My internal alarm blares.
Conflict brews in my mind
Rather to wake
or fall back into sleep.
The smell of coffee
taunting my senses.
And sights of you
intriguing my interest.
Where we will be today
I am not sure
It's generally a mystery.
Though your presence
Is a feeling of immense comfort.
I long to feel your touch on mine
So I rise without discontent
And let the sun break trough the shades.