I wake up to find
the world just as I left it,
the rain pat-pat-pattering against
my warm windowpanes, and
the indescribable smell of the rain
and how undeniably
green the world is.
And I turn over to you, and I
trace your lips with my finger, and
I whisper to you,
"If this isn't nice,
I don't know what is."

And you smile at me, your
rosy lips and your ivory teeth,
lazily opening your grey eyes and
brushing your blonde hair out of your face and
touching my shoulder, you
smile.
And you kiss me, soft and slow
and it's not fireworks like the first time,
of course not,
it's been ten years, but
I pull you close to me and kiss you again
because
if this isn't nice,
I don't know what is.

And we lay together for awhile,
because we've no place to be today.
so we just lay together, my hand on
your hip, and your hand on
my waist, and both of us listening to the
soft swishing sigh of the rain outdoors and
letting the quiet green envelop us.
and I am warm, and you are warm,
and the world will not bother us today.
and well,
if this isn't nice,
I don't know what is.