8 Portraits, #3

The sun is streaking through the windows bare
And falls across her on our early bed
She beckons me to lay beside her there
And breathing serves where words are never said

There’s coffee and vanilla in the air
A softness to her touch upon the spread
Her robe is careless tossed across the chair
A picture hanging of the day we wed

And with the silent Saturday, we dare
Not to protest, but join its hush, instead

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4 Thoughts to “8 Portraits, #3

  1. You caught a universal experience perfectly. I feel sorry for young people today. They don’t marry the way people used to. And I doubt they experience that beautiful time in life.
    Great job, once again.

    1. Thanks. We have our fifteenth anniversary this month, and these are various moments in that span.

      An honest portrait of last night would have been two bleary eyed people chasing a two year old.

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