Sunday Mornings

i’m the first to wake up
on this lazy Sunday morning;
the room is so bright, even through the shade
i can tell it must be past noon.
it’s like you to be sleeping,
but you won’t be sleeping for long.
but first – big yawn
languid stretch
   luxurious!
my body is soft and warm
and i never want to leave these sheets.
a patch of renegade sun warms our feet
everything is still
your peaceful sleeping face makes me smile –
i almost want to leave you there, lost
in some sweet dream.
watch you until you wake.
but nothing compares to Sunday morning love
and i crave your look of pleasure when
i wake you this way.
   my fingertips trace your features
        parted lips
        prominent nose
        refined brow
        stubbly chin…
but it is my weight on your hips that arouses you
   (from sleep! from sleep!)
we don’t say a word –
Sunday mornings call for soft slow silent sex
but our breathing gives us away
    a gasp
   a ragged breath
  an occasional moan
my eyes are closed as i rock my hips
you watch me love you
your gaze on me is the most erotic touch of all
my heavy, pendulous breasts swaying slightly as i lean to kiss you
rumpled sheets
your hand through my cloud of curls
patch of sun

good morning!