Gone with First Light

I fear the dawn
when gentle streaks of light
poke through the trees,
birds trill in a chorus of morning,
deer graze the meadow
in the fading mist.

For at first light you will rise,
sleep draining from your eyes,
hair tousled, stretch to the heavens,
and plop back beside me, warm,
inviting, planting a first and last
kiss on my welcoming cheek,
then brush your hair, dress
in clothes that make me wish
you’d come back to bed,
dab makeup lightly on your
smooth, unwrinkled face,
say I love you to the cat
and me, and leave,
just as the clock strikes seven.

With you gone,
I will face the day alone,
with only memories
of the warmth of night
to occupy my thoughts.