Warm slippers kiss the carpet
like butterflies sipping nectar in spring,
the heavy coffee aroma clinging to empty rooms--
dishes piled high as a symbol of leisure:
A moment of delayed reaction which you
stole for yourself.
Wary hands smoothing frown lines,
absentminded over time, the cold
of a porcelain sink seeping deep
into waiting bones;
the surrounding air lacking the welcoming
warmth of crumpled bed sheets.
And on the window, rain knocks gently:
Hesitant, like tender embraces or
open mouthed kisses sliding down the pane.
The clock numbers flicker;
it is now 6:45.