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”
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