MORNING

MORNING

Morning, when i wake to find you,
Breathing still beside me,
I send a grateful prayer to heaven,
And my lesser self derides me.
For being such a faithless man,
For believing that the shifting sand,
Could pull you from my orbit.

For years I wandered aimlessly,
Lovers mere illusions,
Fairies, gnomes and blithesome sprites,
That flitted through my dreams at night. 
And I in sweet collusion,
Joined in the confusion.

Morning when I wake to see you,
Hair all tousled and divine.
Warm and tender tactile treasure,
A gift in flesh divinely measured,
To the height of my delight.

The sunrise flickers through the window,
Gratefully I kiss your spine,
Spooning in this carnival,
Cotton candy sweet in time.
Flesh and blood you lie beside me,
Far more fitting than a dream,
Every inhale, every exhale,
Rise and fall, you never fail.
Never fail to lift and cushion,
Never fail to answer prayers,
Mornings when I wake and see,
Your face upon the pillow there.

Morning when I wake and see you,
And watch your chest as it gently heaves
For fourteen years it has been this way,
Lying here silently, watching you breathe
May this love be the pastoral scene.
The way you hoped that it could be
As sprites and fairies swirl around us,
As magic fills our waking dreams.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED