You wake up before me and shuffle around in the semi dark for clothes
I don’t think you know I watch you from the covers
I stretch out into your side of the bed that is still warm from your body
The heavy feel of the blankets is like a warm ocean that we sleep in
and we are like small children that don’t want to leave the water.
You are all wrapped in jackets and cameras and bags of art supplies
and remember that I am there half asleep, hair all messed looking at you.
You climb up and plant kisses on me until I smile and giggle a little bit.
Then you are gone, out the door, to begin your day
while I am left to burrow into the covers until the radio wakes me into my day.
When we meet again its as if we have been apart for days even
though we have sent little notes to each other all day.
We hug and I crouch down to hold your smaller body just a little longer
until your whole frame gives into me and I press me nose into your neck.
It seems like we could stay this way forever.
Sleep find us willing recipients and our night rituals begin.
The window open a little bit, the fan turned on
to drown out the nights little city noises,
the blankets tossed over us, we curl around each other
and we fall gently into our warm ocean once again.
We wish it could stay like this but it wont. There will be different mornings
Dogs and kids and homes to keep us up or wake us unexpectedly
There will be new night rituals as we grow old
and we will get used to the small metal bands around our fingers.