Contemplation

The gray light of dawn plays
along the surface
of your shoulder.
My finger traces
the soft rise of your skin,
flowing under my fingertips
like wind-borne silk.

I watch the small movements
of your sleep—the pitch and roll
of your muscles as you break
through the deep of a dream.
You exhale and the sounds
of your breathing undulate
through my chest and crash
against the shores
of my body.

My love for you sweeps
through me in a regular rhythm—
booming and spraying,
then receding in gentle silence.

©LJ Grandstaff 3/00

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