Waking Alone

 

 

In the morning
Before light
The house whispers me awake.
The stream in a painting burbles silently.
The sky over mountains in another remembers dawn.
 ———-
When he’s gone
And I wake
Life wraps more closely around me.
The dogs move from the foot of the bed.
They press their weight against mine without asking.
 ———-
When he returns
And we wake
Life will relax to make room for us.
The paintings will frame our world.
I will feel his weight next to mine and hear him thinking.
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Filed under Poetry, Writing

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