Sunday, August 31, 2008

His Pillow

His pillow, rumpled beside me
I breathe in his cologne
Wishing he didn't have to
Work so early
My pent up energy
Waking within
Musk, sweat, the

Scent of last night
His head impression dimpled
In the fluffy cotton
I reach for my teddy
Barely absent, the bed still warm
The next long, eight hours...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Nice poem. I'm too often guilty of getting up early leaving my wife in that situation.