Dawn comes through the hazy window,
Morning's blue tempered by aged glass.
Beyond, cold air of early autumn seeps through.
In here, the warmth of you holds me;
In here, golden strands bring me summer rays;
The slow rise and fall of your gentle chest;
The in and out of your breath that I breathe;
These mornings are new, so new to us
Though they feel like the stirring of ages
In the way we entwine in one another.
September 25, 2007
No comments:
Post a Comment