Writing letters to home

This morning I woke up So full of joy
Yet feeling so light, almost weightless,
Flowing in the air unmoored from the floor
like a feather or pollen or music or perfume.
Surrounded by chaos and precariousness
Yet so perfectly at peace
At the thought of seeing you soon,
At the thought of returning home to you.

Remembering my mornings with you
When after kissing me goodmorning
And tucking me in, you leave the bed
To get ready for work.
My eyes still closed,
I lay in the bed feeling a little cold,
My body missing the warmth of yours.
I listen to the sounds you make
And the songs you sing in the shower.
I can feel your presence in the room
And then, that perfect moment in time
When the air is suddenly filled
With the smell of your perfume.
I breathe in a lung full of air,
And it fills my chest with the smell
Of all the beautiful moments we have shared.

I fall in love with you
A little more this morning,
Thinking about the perfection of that moment
And how it will be my usual mornings from here on.

Yes Honey, I am coming home to you.

-N

Daily Prompt- unmoored
Photographer unknown  

Poetry © Copyright 2017, Opinionated Head

Advertisements