a sweet poem rarity

by Steven J. Serafiani

awaken to hear footsteps, gather
my shirt, my pants. rub my eyes as
I make my way through hallway, living
room kitchen. she’s there, the bluebird of
dawn brewing coffee dressed in an
endearing warm glow doesn’t
know I’m near, right arm glides around
waist, left arm atop breasts      nose
to locks    as she kisses my hand with
audible content

think, I could do this for another fifty.