Sunlit Saturdays

Sunlight streams in from the hotel skylight 

and your arms loosen up around me enough 

for me to roll over to face you. Gently you 

pull me closer again, put your lips to mine, 

and whisper, “Good morning Beautiful.” 

My brother groans from the corner and 

pulls the blanket over his head more. 

The others are still asleep in the bed 

to our right and the fog against the window 

sparkles in the final sparks of the steadily 

dimming street lights. I want to pull myself 

even closer, press your chest to mine, 

let my words dance along your neck and 

tell you about the dreams I had in your arms. 

I want to know how wonderfully you slept 

and to let the day pass lazily with us like this. 

I want the stars to come out again and to 

be your teddy bear just a little while longer. 

Sunlight streams in from the hotel skylight 

I’ve never really been a morning person 

until my habit of weekends with you began.