wood of stairs
golden morning breaking
waves through glass
smell of coffee
fried eggs and toast
sparrows pinging off the porch
like feathered sparks
and the way your hand
plays over my back
looking to the garden
diamond dew on grass
your touch ghosting
warmth of bed
unfinished dreams
curve of your naked arse
wishing it were like this
always and forever
as we smile and rise
to the triumph of J.S. Bach
© shaun patirck green 2011
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