Eyes glazed,
Darkness painted about the room.
Waking, to a humble friend,
at the foot.
You in the next,
I can hear through the plaster.
I keep silent,
not to the disturb the moment.
I listen, to your scrambling,
to perfect the art.
You have left,
just moment ago.
Waking elegantly even,
when soaked in morning.
I smell the concave,
the shape of you.
I listen to you,
as you get ready.
Sounds tell of each step,
as you struggle to keep silent.
How I love, need, want
these taps
It reminds me of little things,
that I keep note.
These are things,
that I savor.
The perfect little things,
of you.