Sunday mornings

in #poetry8 years ago

andre-benz-280847.jpg

Photo courtesy of Andre Benz

Imagine if you could wake up,
on a beautiful Sunday morning.
She is just gorgeous, even without makeup,
we both keep on quietly yawning.

I don't want to get up yet,
the floors are as cold as ice.
I hope one day we can get pet,
and our family will feel utterly nice.

We get up, finally, at three o' clock,
we start making pancakes, of course.
"Maybe you should put on some socks,"
she says as I'm delivering "cold" with morse.

She's behind the kitchen counter,
I'll go near her and hug her from behind.
This was my very first, love-encounter,
and I don't care if it has made me blind.

"Promise, you won't let go, dear?"
she says while turning towards me.
I say "I do not have the slightest fear"
for this, as I can imagine no other place
for my home to be.

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