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.