raspy morning voice

when he wakes up his face will stay still, so silent in its awareness

of my sleeping form so confused, so still in my bewildered ease.

and his cheek will rub against his pillow softly

and he'll feel the prickle of new growth in his skin touching cloth

and the stubble's whisper will call me from my sleep

and my eyes will hesitate to open, for what if it was a sound from a dream?

but your heart will stir at my sudden life

your fingers will brush my skin in a first attempt to reach

to me in my place of quiet pondering

"dare i let it remain a dream?"

so your lips part to breathe before your first speech

and your throat, parched, heaves in efforted passion

but before your only utterance and assurance of our love

i open my eyes

and we meet this day as only one.