Sunday mornings I wake to the precious sight of you
I'm each time reminded that there's something so painfully beautiful about your face when you are sleeping
This Sunday I woke up with melancholy
Your face, as beautiful as ever, won't be my first sight of the morning for much longer
Why do we notice these things we take for granted, always too late?
I run my hand through your hair
Feel the soft skin of your face on my finger tips
I know every bump and scar there ever was
And you're just as you are
No words, no distractions, no good byes.
Everything is safe in this moment and you are my own arms distance away
And we are us
Everything we've become spending these years of memories moulding our lives into each other's
We are laying here, not in this bed, but in this moment.
And I don't want my sobbing to wake you
I want you to stay sleeping
so we can live in this second forever
Where there's no leaving me alone.
You move and gently smile in your sleep
Find my hand and clasp it with yours
Please, please let me wake to you another Sunday.
Created: May 08, 2017KeavyRae Document Media