6 o' clock Thoughts

Your downy eyelashes flutter ever so slightly
As the pleasant glow of dawn begins to swell, slowly,
And overflow like honey
Between the horizontal slats of my dusty blind.
I watch it pour, thick and warm
Over our soft, pale bodies,
And highlight every dip and crease:
An out of focus Polaroid

Comfortably cradled in the soft bend of your arm,
I listen to your rushing breath, and
Watch the dust swirl around dreamily in fractured sunbeams
Which pour idly into the tranquil pools of light
That have formed on my rumpled bedsheets

I sigh, and close my eyes.

I feel you breathe in deeply,
And wrap your other arm around me.
Your palm rests gently on my right cheek,
With your thumb stroking my feathery eyelashes
In the way you always used to
When I felt sad, or frustrated, or
Angry about the crush of life
Outside this calm, dusty room
Where our favourite books are all lined up, propped up with
A vase we bought in Camden,
And our trinkets and ornaments are scattered about.

Photos of our holiday to Thailand;
My shimmering jewellery,
Scattered on the dressing table;
Your watch that ticks quite loudly
But that neither of us find annoying.
Clothes, slung carelessly, hang
From door handles and chair backs;
Your favourite blue shirt tangled
In the wire of my hairdryer,
From one frantic morning, rushing for the bus,
Hair flyaway, cheeks red, odd socks,
Toothpaste still on your breath.

I touch the back of your hand,
And feel the creases in your knuckles

Wrapped loosely in the crumpled cream sheets,
Entwined and touching softly
We lay, for hours,
And breathe
Until dawn has grown into morning
And the birds are singing
And cars rush past
And we must begin to exist elsewhere