Good Morning

She awakens this mid-morning Vaguely recalling the events of the eve prior Slowly, yet methodically, rising to the day Stretching, yawning, eyes opening She sees for the first time That she recognizes, not, the surroundings “This is not the color of my room,” she thought “These are not my curtains, my rug, my bed!” Ah, but she saw movement there Realizing at that moment she stood naked Then a face, strong looking, almost rugged As she remembered, crawling back under the blanket To reach and request an encore, saying, “Good morning, you”