Another Thought: From Him

Say that you’ll
tangle your fingers
with mine,
through laughter
and tears
and thoughts unkind.

My darling,
you are thousands of years
stuck beside me already.
We can stand a few years more,
don’t you think?

I want mornings of
filling you
like you fill your cup,
the one with the rose print,
with hot pressed coffee.

I want afternoons of solitude,
you napping beside me,
head on feather pillow,
a slight snore escaping the lips,
as I turn the pages of a book
I neglected to read before.

I want evenings of us,
holding each other over
a hot stove
spooning each others love
into opened mouthed kisses.

And I want nights that
turn into mornings
where we lay in the bed
nose touching nose,
spilling our fears and hopes
into the quiet of the empty house.

Give me mornings,
afternoons,
evenings,
nights.
Give me years of laughter
and tears
and unkind thoughts and
tangled fingers and toes,
and cups of coffee
and naps and books.

Thousands of years isn’t enough.

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