by Caitlin Ross
The sun, having travelled a great distance,
Breaks soft upon one still, rose-tinted cheek.
Glowing waking hours of our existence,
Pale limbs stir ‘neath their tangled, off white sheets
Light dust hovers in the shafts of sunlight,
Like birds flitting, basking in morning heat.
The old bed creaks, and the young sun highlights
Sleepy young eyes, which crack open to meet
The day; Beating heart of a new day,
And the birds and cicadas sing their odes
To the morning; The moon gone on her way,
And momentarily, the world has slowed.
My dear reader, lavish in those seconds,
Lest the deary call of living beckon.