the way the light brushes the white of a wall
at mid day when the sun is highest
and the smell of your home most familiar
the way he accepts my palm unyielding
stiff backed, and expectant
not wavering or wincing backward
soft furr tousled, and shiny grey in the
fingers of light through the window
the way your pillows feel in the morning
arms escapsule the cushiony fluff
and the scent of last nights smiles
the silence of your own space
serenity in the quiet against the warmth of your own skin
reminiscing along with swirling cloud like
memories while you watch your cat snooze
serenly on a windowsill..