a day in bed

i found the warmth of day resting in my bed
after three hours of salsa-dancing and six tumbling into dreams
so pale he looked like he was dead
but definitely warm; this gift from the sun
if one should find a day resting in your bed
there are things that one shouldn't do
do not shake him awake and demand a kiss
do not kick him off to make the morning coffee
and, please do not squeeze him and scream
"let’s see what this day can do!”
a day in bed should be quietly observed
i lean in, close and attentive
he smiles in his sleep
his eyebrows are neat
i can hear the ocean when i stick my ear near
that is, the ebb and flow of his gentle breath
did he just peek at me?
he better be dreaming of me
but, this kind of day doesn’t observe me
and, well, i guess, that’s good – once in a while
a day in bed should be allowed to dream
and roll in every curve of the pillows and blankets
spreading himself over the ticking minutes and quieting the pounding hours
until enclosed in my arms
waking only after
i have adorned the body
with little lipstick kisses
and covered the length of day with the darkness of my hair

 © lyw