The morning light sneaks quietly into your through drooping curtains you have been meaning to fix. It seeps in slowly casting soft lines on everything it touches. Your arm sticks straight out from under my neck, curling at calloused fingers. Every morning I am surprised your arm is this there and have the intense desire to kiss your calloused fingers with appreciation. Some times I do. Sometimes I roll towards you and admire the lines of your sleeping face, the slight smile on your lips and the twitches from your dreams.
In this waking, I am always content. In this waking, I am grateful for the breath in my lungs, for one more day of loving you. Even though I have to leave and go about my day I am relieved knowing I will come home to you; wrapped tightly around me in the evening and loosely curled against me in waking.