Sundays With You

I stirred, my eyes heavy with sleep,

Adjusting to the darkness of our room,

Morning is put on hold,

Its light helpless against the curtains.

I listen to you, sleeping

Under the duvet, my hand search for yours

Guided by your breath, my lips found yours

I laid on your chest and listen to your heartbeat,

Being lull to sleep again, by your warmth.

Till you pat my head and whisper,

Good morning, my love.

Photo by Joanna Nix-Walkup on Unsplash