I am drifting along on a cloud, on a breeze. Memories of the night come through bright and clear, as though the new dawn weren’t effulgent enough for my eyes. And still you lie there, sleeping this day away, fixing yourself into my memory. A stir, a sound, an eye peeping through the covers. Your words, meaningless mumbles, float through my mind on a crystalline slide and lodge themselves somewhere between that steep mountain of ideas and the tundra of barren thoughts. I wave them away with a finger to your lips. With a careless shiver and an involuntary delight in that sleeping world underneath covers, I slide under your arms into safe haven.
Nothing is wasted here; not time, nor a glance, not even a thought. As the world thoughtlessly pounds on our door, a lazy good morning is the only reply I’ll give.