Early in the morning, the light filters through our curtains into the quiet room. I am awake, pulled from slumber by a presence...something has changed.
I don't usually wake slowly, but go from sleep to aware in a matter of moments.
Eyes open, I see the difference beside me, wrapped in sheets, blanket, comforter, grey morning light...
Someone.
Someone is here. Here with me.
He brought relatively little by way of the material world...but he fills this house with himself.
The house approves.
The boy approves.
I? Oh, yes...I approve...
I lean up on an elbow and am tempted...sorely tempted...
...to touch...to smooth my fingers lightly over his face, touch his lips, dip them in the hollow of his collar bone where shadows have come to rest with sighs of content. They drift, mingling with the dawn on his smooth, soft skin...
...to run my palm down his arm, feel the play of muscle, strong even at rest...
...to tease the scattering of hairs on his chest, wiry shafts tickling my face when I cuddle close.
Goddess, how I love to touch him...just to feel him there, radiating heat, vitality, Spirit...
And how I love to see him sleeping there, where it feels so right to have him...to see the shadows and shades molding to him, creating landscapes of chiaroscuro on him...to see them shift and change as he moves, opens his eyes, and light of a different sort fills the room.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment