Poetry - Before he wakes

danterossetti

At first light, almost an hour
Before morning rise of sun
I turn upon my side and count
Each gentle breath, observe

The smallest movements of his flesh
Uncovered, naked from the better
Part of night, his legs askew,
Pale thighs an altar on the bed.

I sense a surge that flows
From open sea to inlet eyes,
Know that soon a great appearance
Will come as he crawls from sleep
To me, from dream to watchful man
Who occupies this luminous space
Reaching out, holding back,
Feasting upon this moment before he wakes.

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