Morningtime
he is the woman of my dreams. As she�s sitting at the kitchen table bathing in the yellow morning
sun and drinking her coffee (cream, no sugar), I am reminded of the extent of my veneration for her.
She never even so much as glances up from her newspaper to acknowledge my presence, but I know she can sense the magnetism. Even the most foolish of fools would.
She makes every move with the greatest of ease, never seeming to wield over anything. And with her fairylike movements I become more and more transfixed. She will ceaselessly be mine, no matter what obstacles we may encounter. Nothing will or can sever the tie that binds us together. She knows as well as I do that we were created for each other. To all the novices, there is no feeling that could ever compare. Mutual love indispensably is the strongest force in the universe.
She has eyes that could literally light up the darkest corner of despondency with a fresh ray of anticipation and euphoria. Someday more of the world will become aware of her many virtues, but for now I�ll have to be contented with securing my stare upon her exquisitely ravishing face. Still, she doesn�t return my gaze.
She possesses an aura of sensitivity and warmth. I know that the both of us united will conquer the world, but still she remains immersed in the morning paper. She has given me plenty of looks before, but it is here and now that I long for another confirmation of our love. Maybe if I just keep staring, staring, staring...
She looks up, swivels her exquisite head, and meets my eyes with hers. She appears stunned, which is understandable. The first time you witness something such as this in all its magnificence, awe is a customary reaction. Soon she will merely recognize it and be comfortable as I already am.
She is ascending from the table, approaching me. Finally, the attention our love deserves. In her brisk strides I read desire and longing. Our love has reached the forefront as it should have ages ago.
She pulls the shade down. I go home.
