Though my presence seems to be such a burden
I'm ever-appreciatice of the gesture and gift
The smell of your hair and your skin
The sound of the air kicking on
The feel of the breeze from the fan
The sound of an alarm set to pull you away
The tangle of my arms to enare you
The stubble on your chin, the brush of your lips
As you groggily recount to me your dreams
Oh god how I adore hearing your dreams
And sitting groggily across from you at
The breakfast table
Or your desk
Depending upon the hour
Or your schedule
Or my desire to see you succeed
Bleary-eyed and amazed at how the simple things you
Do in the morning come across so adroit to me in my sleepiness
You, the master of mornings
Allowing me into your world