When you wake, and your hair is an unmade bed;
Barely to drift open your dreamful eyes,
Feeling the perfect roll of your breathing rhythm
Silently lower the valley of your torso;
One arm, effortless arches over your head
Almost mid-yawn, revealing your bicep,
Your delicate underarm, your charming proneness,
Untouchable in vulnerability.
You’ve been poured there like drapes, silk sheets onto the bed.
Catlike you found yourself there, and curled there still.
I trace your jawline, testament to symmetry,
Face to the sky as a monument for peace.
Lips parted, a promise; petals to morning dew,
Opening with the breath of nature, unwakeable you.