In the chilly October dim morning light of my bedroom
you woke me with a kiss,
fully dressed and ready to start the day.

With the remnants of sleep caulked to the inside corners
of my eyes, I took witness
to the splendor of your face,
the casual elegance of your wardrobe.

You prepared a lunch for me today, setting it down
on the dining room table
on your way to my room: it is you
who nourishes me and keeps me strong,
you who heals me with the overwhelming fulfillment
that has evened out the valley-like crevices
of my emotional landscape.

With your modest courageous smile, you enveloped me
with the words “I love you,”
and bowed over the edge of the bed
to look into my awakening eyes.

Afraid to speak, I smiled with a rested but not yet cognizant
mouth and looked into your deep brown eyes,
finding your soul blending with the silhouette of me,
still half-asleep, but incredibly in love.

“You are stunning,” I managed to squeak out. Still smiling,
we kissed once more, then you left me—in bed—
in a drowsy and dreamlike state.
I continued to lie there for a few moments,
before I managed to stand up, clothe myself,
and walk outside into the Muncie morning
to sit on my porch swing with the sounds
of freight trains in the distance and cars
driving down Jackson Street to further
welcome me into my day.

by Ryan Wilcox