It's at 6:30 in the morning,
When the sky is just waking,
Pale blues and yellows and
The touch of peach on the horizon

When I wake for no good reason
And stare out at the sky, admiring.
And I look down at you next to me
Breathing softly and sweetly in sleep.

It is then that I wish, should you stir,
Turning over to see me, that
You had something stunningly beautiful
To see when you wake as well.

Some face that makes you catch breath
For a moment, and your eyes become
Fixated.
A perfect complexion, perhaps.
Rosey, defined lips just the perfect shape.

If I had deep ocean eyes or ones
Of solid gold.
Maybe the perfect amount of scattered freckles.
A straight, modest nose. Impeccable brows.
Soft, silky smooth hair that always looks done, even when it's not.

I wish I had these things to offer
At 6:30 in the morning.
In those brief shared moments
Before we return to sleep.

They say beauty is relative,
It is about "perspective."
And though you may think I'm something special,
My perspective is one who feels she owes something more
To the man who deserves the world.