Poetry · Writing

Every Tomorrow

Wake, wake

to the scent of flavor

baking and french toast

on a platter of butter

and Sunday mornings.

Wake, wake

to sleepy kisses and

bed ridden movies

replayed on network

television followed

by mid day naps.

Wake, wake

to her face every

time, her slight

breathing soothes you

back into her embrace,

not wanting to sleep;

not wanting for her to wake,

to stay this precious.

Wake, wake

to her smile every day,

the only way to spend


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