Rainy Morning

A rainy morning such as this would be better spent
beneath a quilt, naked back against the negative
space of your own curled form as cool damp air blows in from open window. Listening to the dance outside, we'd talk and tease, your breath against my neck, whiskers tickling. Linked fingers, pretzelled limbs, I'd take a little nap as you kept watch and thought up clever, silly things
to tell me later.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013