Love of My Life

They say husbands who kiss their wives goodbye in the morning are less likely to have accidents later. I figured that out years ago, though I often had to be careful not to wake her.

First daylight bleeds into the chill
stillness of our room, enfolding
the serene magnificence of your form
in repose, exposing the fragile beauty
of your features. You, like a National Park,
too lovely to disturb. Like a marauding
strip miner I risk all to kiss your brow,
to breathe the perfume of your hair.


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