Early on this new day,
not even five am,
and I sit, coffee in hand,
listening as you tap
computer keys. We have a rhythm —
waking early, sharing our first
kiss, and then inquiring
how each other slept,
me in my comfy chair
and you at your desk,
our sweet good mornings.
You tell me you noticed
a bright moon when you passed
by the front window; you know
I’ll want to see, snap a picture.
I know what you want for breakfast,
so I’ll warm up the cinnamon rolls,
a favorite of ours, these baked
by my father’s hand,
another gift from his kitchen.
We are content, blessed
in the gentleness of our knowing
one another’s movements,
anticipating the end of sentences,
cherishing every recollection each
of us loves to tell, again and again;
we never grow tired of such
sweet memories.
We appreciate every gray hair
and each new line
we will trace in our ongoing
desire to hold the image
of the other in place,
grateful for every blessed
moment lived in the tenderness
of our enduring love story.
—C.L. Fisher, May 2020
Unless otherwise indicated, all content, including writing and images, are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.
Poetic Meanderings 