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? ;)