there is something elusive about that comfortable sunday morning
drinking coffee in quiet contemplation and shared laziness
fresh picked flowers to match growing smiles
sunshine falling through the windows
to illuminate the dance party of a million tiny particles of dust
arms wrapped around waists, as dishes are rinsed
a kiss on the back of her neck
to remind her she is still that same girl in his now creased eyes
i can remember what it was like to watch that play out,
drawing quietly on the floor by the sliding glass door where the light was best
but perhaps thats just a scene i created in dreams
either way, the memory smells of newspaper and fresh mowed grass
breaking my heart
and kissing it better all at once
like an emotional band aid, keeping frayed edges in place.
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