In Those Still Hours

In those still hours when I lie with you,
awaiting morning’s early light and just
emerged from sleep, I tend to contemplate
the way our time has flown – and I’ll review
kaleidoscopic images that thrust
upfront when minds are in that drowsy state.

Intruding thoughts of daily life, these years
of mortgages and jobs, all dwell on things -
but what of love? Was that a thing with wings?
My lonely wakefulness is full of fears.

Today I need to quell those fears somehow,
and gently lean across to kiss your lips –
you reach to pull me up against your hips,
and nagging morning doubts dissolve . . . for now.