The shackles on my soul Are slipping
Time has taken its toll
Slowly Stretching, I don’t remember
How long ago it was spring
In the dark Basement Of my mind
How long have I been here Immobile, and blind, without
Light Or fresh air?
And how long Have you stood there,
Each morning, your eyes open slowly like small suns on the horizon of my day.
Coffee brews on auto; waking the cat who comes to meow her indignation.
You reach for me with nested warmth from beneath the covers to pull me back to you,
And I am happy as the world goes away, if only for a few minutes more.
Copyright 2004 Ava C. Ruth