Small beams of sunlight sprinkle our bodies as we lie awake but dosing on a quiet Sunday morning.
Bells sound in the distance, and twittering birds play outside the window; but our bed and our silence are still calling.
My insomnia drives me mad, so I can only imagine how it must be for you,
Who’d sleep the longest of hours given the chance.
The silence is calm, peaceful, and dust motes glitter in the sun’s rays within this partly shutter-darkened room.
My hair is caught in a fiery glow, and I take a moment to enjoy the autumnal colours,
But the sun has disturbed you… a pillow now lies across your face.
And the tea has been drunk, the warmth of you calling me back under the covers.
*Written in 2014