Good Morning, My Love

Sunlight streams across a laminate floor,

And spills into her silhouette as she creeps;

Her tiptoes are a whisper through the open door,

And through a window the smell of summer seeps.

.

Hot wet steam gushes from the kettle,

And hangs there stuck to the air;

She opens the drawer to retrieve cold metal,

And takes down two mugs with reverent care.

.

The rich smell of coffee makes its presence known,

And she pauses a moment to inhale it;

A soft sigh behind her means she's no longer alone,

And as she turns a warm flame in her eyes is lit.

.

His languid smile is lazy like he doesn't care,

And her own lets him know that she understands;

They communicate with words that are never there,

And she caresses his lips whilst her touch demands.

.

The coffee is forgotten on the countertop,

And instead sunlight dances between bare skin;

A subtle whisper like birdsong – 'don't stop',

And they're lost before they even begin.

.

Later upstairs they lay tangled in bliss,

And the clock hands slowly circle the face;

He stills her fluttering eyelashes with a kiss,

And over her lips his fingertips trace.

.

Happiness tickles her like a feather,

And she laughs against his chest;

He smiles upwards at the ceiling,

And puts his niggling fears to rest.

.

Her beauty is so simple it shimmers in the sun,

And makes soft captivation glow in his eyes;

For the first time neither of them wants to run,

And this is no time for goodbyes.

.

Now is a time for 'good morning, my love',

And gentle kisses at very first light;

Now is a time for 'black coffee, my love?',

And keeping each other up all night.


Can you tell I haven't written a happy poem in a long time? ;)

X :D