Saturday Morning
tussled hair
fringed by an aureole of curtained morning sun
bare legs walking diagonally across the
rectangle of light spilled by the window on the
living room floor
body, nude between the sheets a few moments ago,
now draped in an unbuttoned white shirt
one size too big for her
mine
her face, undecided between sleep and wakefulness,
has done the opposite,
shed that last piece of clothing,
the makeup,
as if confessing a total abandoning of distance
as she crosses the last few feet of space
separating her and me
Copyright © Bernard Chan | Year Posted 2019
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