Patient Morning (For Lindsay)

The reddish glow from the yardlight
bends its way through the shutters
and illuminates just a bit
of her shoulder and neck.
The rest of her is hidden
by sheets and darkness.

I sweep a lock of hair
off of her cheek
and see through the half-light
that she is smiling.

She ignored the alarm.
I rose to sit at her side.

I rest my hand on her shoulder
straining through the darkness
for a clearer view of her face.

She wakes.
and starts to speak.
I press a finger to her lips and
tell her to go back to sleep.

She pulls the covers tight
around her shoulders
and wiggles into a ball.

I’ll wake her up shortly.
But now I just wait.

I wait for the sun
to creep over the horizon
and gift me
with enough light
bending through the shutters
to illuminate just a bit more
of her shoulder
and her neck
and her face.

by Tom Ramsey

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