One Sunday Morning

by J Alan - Not entered

I watch you standing at the mirror, totally unaware of my presence
As you slowly brush through mounds of auburn hair.
Through the window, the sun picks up glints of red
And the smell of your hair fills my Sunday morning.

In silence I see a dreamy, lost look in your eyes
As though each brush stroke changes an image in your mind.
You seem completely filled with such peace and serenity
And I am blessed to play a part in your contentment.

You catch my reflection and smile quietly as my arms encircle your waist.
I lean to rest my chin on your shoulder as your head tilts to mine.
My arms melt in the feel of silk and soft belly skin.
And I know that nothing in my life that can ever compare to this very moment.
Birth sign: Not entered
Date created: 1998-03-29 10:25:12
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:40:06
Poem ID: 49166

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