Dawn With An Angel



He stretches like an alley cat,
his eyes blurry from sleep
as dawn fingers creep into the room.
Turning to the warm body
curled against his back,
his finger reaches to touch
the bangs that have fallen
across her eyes as she sleeps.


She looks touched by love,
slightly tousled and mussed
in a heart rending way,
and while he longs to reach out
and kiss her awake, he hesitates,
savoring this moment
when he can watch her,
vulnerable and unaware,
her defenses down.


The lavender fingers of light
kiss her cheeks, and he thinks
Monet would have loved to see her now,
her tawny hair curled in disarray
across a honey gold shoulder, a sleek,
gently curved back, bared to her hips.


He can arouse her to passion, but
does he really touch her, he wonders,
inside, where it really counts?


Her loneliness reaches so deep,
does he even penetrate that
when his body joins hers?


Right now, in this half-light of dawn
she is his, totally, hopelessly,
helplessly his. Sleep, angel, sleep!


Love, Jody