Love Poem Pt. I

wriggling from a self made cocoon

and moving out from under your arm,

my bare toes hit the cold gingerly,

tentatively,

creeping across creaking wooden boards,

hoping not to wake you.

with coffee in hand

and pink light painting the walls,

morning greets me again.

with caffeine buzzed fingers

i stroke your head

and patiently wait for the bird's song

and the mellow light to turn bright.

bright enough to wake you

from a self-made cocoon

that we built together

underneath the cool light

of the moon,

and the cricket's song.