Coffee with my honey by the sunny window
It’s a standing morning date
My legs draped over him like a familiar, comfy quilt with the worn seam that you don’t want mended
His smiling eyes, they speak to me a language only we know
A language learned slowly, syllable by syllable
starting that first night in December when the air turned cool
Coffee with my honey by the sunny window
Same place, every day by the always-smudged glass
and the toy-spotted rug and
the barstools where children and crumbs like to gather
Ten years we’ve been walking this road hand in hand,
yet I am always in awe
of the way prayers are answered.
I reach over in the night
to touch his shoulder while he is sleeping
to make sure he’s still there, still real, still mine
to say thank you in the darkness for the man
who is my light
Coffee with my honey by the sunny window.