Morning

a gentle exhale and a warm hand on my bare stomach;
quick paws running over soft cold earth
with a blue vastness above us.
fog on the insides of the windows,
condensation running in rivulets down the cold glass
like a caress.
distant traffic quiet against the tarmac.
every time I look at you there is a sunrise,
light drifting green and gold through the leaves,
and it reminds me that it is still
so early,
that the day is still
young.

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