The morning sun blazes
a burning trail
through tranquil, lowered lids
shattering the night
and my soft sleep.

You see it, too, and
only half awake,
reach through the blankets
the darkness
the hours we walked
through separate dreams . . .

until you find me.

Hands gripping hips
you pull me close
tuck me in
over your shoulder
under your chin
a place I fit so perfectly
the night is whole again.

And, just like every morning,
even (especially?) after all these years
I’ll count leaving your arms
among the hardest things I do today.