ROMANCE Poem: He Always Brings Me Tea, by Kara Montagano

I am, as always, slow to rise.
Cradled in woven cloth,
I wake, I writhe.
Swaddled in calm arms,
we’ve nothing but time.

The windows are open
as are my eyes.
His smile beams
and I sigh.
All is right as the tea cools,
nestled in a steaming ginger pool.

The quiet chill of fall,
like a gentle hand caresses my cheek,
lulling me, hushing me back to sleep.

Author: poetryfest

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