Sometimes

Most times the morning is a fidget,

even the most mundane task

steals from me like a sneak thief

whilst you lie wrapped in dreamy comfort. 

Almost on cue, the kettle exhales;

it is modern, very efficient, 

but still demanding of its moment 

as the sun casts warm across your 

untroubled and still mostly unlined brow. 

Soon, the cups steam in my hands;  

and as the hour, like some conquering 

soldier of fortune, marches on without

a thought or care,  it seems, most times 

I truly cannot tell the why or where.

But sometimes, when my thoughts become

restless as a windblown paper scrap;
when the only sound is that of
perfectly matched silence; 

I see behind the curtain of your eyes 

a love that shines more bright

than all of heaven's sweet sunrise.

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

mmmmmmmmmmmmm beautifully wonderful says i! i see the young mother ...going from her busy selfless morning to the image of her little girl or boy ... sleeping blissfully ... before the age of reality strikes ;) tho it is universal, your poem, and i can easily imagine a selfish husband ... ;}
what i really like about your poem is your strong use of simile and personifications ... your poem is chuck full of them and they do mold the sensory images experienced ... so glad i visited this your oldest post .. well done indeed!
E.

[Richard🖌]

Hot mug of early morning aromatic, lapsang souchang, and a beautiful poem from "Beccy" … what, I ask, could be more befitting or pleasurable to a bard's senses? I cannot answer that, because I cannot imagine what it would be.
The moment you've created, the atmosphere, ambiance, and nuances of vivid emotion, married with beauty from your heart, mind, and soul have drawn me so completely into you I can feel the essence and ease of flow in which your feelings and sensations move through your being, Beccy … "this", now, is powerful, excellently rendered Free Verse poetry, any writer worth their weight in ink should envy, and I assuredly do!
Your grammar? Superb, and there is a naturalness about your writing that literally tugs at the reader's appeal and desire, inviting one to irresistibly, virtually, step into your skin with you to enjoy the wondrous sensations of that which you feel and perceive in your moments, in your world … and "that", M'Dear Poetess, is poetic magic few possess!

I feel … "smitten", and I love it, especially the sweet little touch of rhyme at the end!
Thank you, Lovely-Hearted Lady-Poet! ⁓ Richard

[Beccy]

Thank you for a lovely, lovely review. This about my son Charlie's father. Sadly he is now back in Russia.

Beccy.

[Richard🖌]

A boy needs a father.
Thank you for commenting, Beccy. : )

[Neville]

This is one of those just a little bit extra special writes that I am surely going to enjoy over and over again...Smashing if I might say so....N

[Michael G.]

I wish I had read this along with my first or second cup of coffee. Such a pleasant way to start the day. As it is, it still went along with my lunch very well.
Lovely, loving flow. A very enjoyable read. Michael

[Dean]

Once again, I must say how much I appreciate your ability to write simply, yet say so much--the hallmark of fine poetry, and I thank you for it.

One little negative, if I may be so bold:
Unless the context is past tense, "lay" should be remembered as transitive. Hope I have not offended you.

[Woody]

I found this an absolute pleasure to read.
so many lines are crafted in such an exquisite way, I had to read them again.

[Chris]

Now THIS ONE really goes well with a morning's coffee and a soft smile. Good Morning Beccy.

[Jack...]

Now this is very good. I love how this moves...it kept me engaged wondering where you were going with this. I love how it ended on a high note...as love is always a high note in my book. Very nicley penned Beccy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

there is such love expressed in this, yet also a restlessness...and a bit of a jealousy that he can sleep so peacefully, without a care in the world....and for her, life seems a burden...