I wake up too early, he’s home quite late
and as sunlight stays, these eyes lock shut.
Then darkness fades as I pace and create.
‘Till back to bed and his kisses cut
in all the right places,
and lashes flutter up to love.
The lips to lock after too many faces
and orders we may be above.
It doesn’t matter what patterns fall out of line
as long as there’s time for a story, a cigarette to share
with this other body blessedly mine…
blowing away every despair.
Every night.
In sickness and in health.
The turn we made turned out right.
Hist heart and heat as my source of wealth.
