A.M.

A pair of sweet brown eyes gaze over my sleeping form.
Waking and turning towards them evokes a quick wave of shock, elation, and flattery.
On countless occasions I’ve longingly stared at her –
Unsure, in my mind, over whether I’m happier for her to sleep a few minutes longer –
Allowing uninterrupted glances at each part of her perfection:
Her hair combining with daylight to halo her shoulders –
The hypnotic rise and fall of her chest –
The ever so slight flicker of her eyes as they travel through dreams.
My other senses want her to wake
Allowing her to know the equal devotion that flows from my mind.
Today, a sweet smile resides – one that sparks of comfort –laziness when it can be afforded
There are no words to be spoken – silence lets her re-enter our world from where she’s been.
Instead – our eyes meet and even though its morning, time becomes a non entity.
Morning, noon, and night soon become spend together waking and falling asleep once more.
Our fingers touch – an invitation to know each other after the separation of slumber.
“Good morning”, she speaks.

- by Michael Weems