by Marie de Foret

Created on: April 16, 2008

We're angels in the morning
lying in your lush blue bed,
the sunlight accenting your dirty-blonde hair,
the sheer brightness of your baby-blue eyes
gazing into the depths of mine.

There's a contentment to be had
in the solace of the lazy-day sunrise.

There are no tasks to be done,
no excitement to be had,
just a satisfied warmth settled behind my breastbone.
I nuzzle your slightly-grizzled cheek

with the softness of my peachfuzz.
I'm like a cat yearning for the touch of the master's hand.

You gently brush away my errant strands of hair
and tuck them delicately behind my ear,
somehow managing to caress my cheek, my jawbone,
the tender, soft flesh beneath my closed eyes.

I slide my fingers to the nape of your neck
and you get a look on your face not unlike your dog
when he's begging for that little bit of food.
Your eyes dart to my lips and mine to yours
and we both understand that hidden want
of clashing lips and sparring tongues.

But there's a contentment to be had
in the solace of a lazy-day sunrise.

The hesitant moment between the closing of our eyes
and the joining of our lips
is both long and short; an eternity and an insant
where the shadow of a feeling dances on the tip of the tongue
and the moist breath that escapes the confines of your mouth
mingles with the breath escaping mine.

Then there's a meeting, a connection of wills.
It's calm, it's passionate, it's overwhelmed with emotion,
and there's no sense to be had between the both of us.
But there's nothing between us now, just me and you
enveloped in the other's aura.

There is no breath, no logic, no tangible thought,
no me, no you, just us
lying in your lush blue bed
lost in the embrace of the sun's early rays.

There's a contentment to be had
in the solace of a lazy-day sunrise.

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