Late Breakfast
.
Wryly he grins at the familiar thought
that he's once again eating late breakfast
over early lunch, or maybe just
the other way around.
It amuses him he's still this unsure,
much like being still unable to tell
if the orange sun in a painting
is rising or setting.
He gently brushes a strand of stray hair
from her cheek, tucks it soft behind her ear
round her nape, a fleeting smile
of uncertainty in her sleep.
.
Copyright © Romeo Naces | Year Posted 2011
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