On Sunday Mornings, We Dream

The sun rays hover across your closed eyelids.
The sheets warm to the touch.
Your chest rises and falls.

I lay on my back and watch the ceiling fan,
the blades spinning in circles
never ending, producing wind
still and silent.

My eyes flicker
as if taking pictures,
momentums of your peacefulness.

Wondering if you’re dreaming…
and if you are, about what?

I curl up next to you,
lay my head on your chest.
Your arm wraps around me
and I find myself falling asleep,
rising and falling
hoping to dream.

The metronome of your heartbeat
against my ear.

A pulse seeming to count seconds,
turning them into minutes,
hours, even years
adding and losing time to when we will return
to this moment, right here.

Our breaths
become a synchronized ebb and flow
rocking me back to sleep.

Much like a ship at sea,
letting the wind, silent and still
keep us here, always,
it will.

 

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