This morning I weaved into the bathroom
my pink cotton nightgown hanging from
pert breasts, in the mirror hair disarranged
The bath was still full, left, a calm baby blue
cool, but not cold, I swirled my fingers
in the water, still soft from the since
subsided lavendar bubbles
I considered slipping in
shedding the gown and
awakening my skin
Back in bed, I slowly
touch you awakes
watch you shake small
white feathers from deep
within your curls
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