Dimanche Matin

Lemon air thick with love, a sun sneaking in through gauze shades

Mounds of pastel cloth, soaked in warmth

A sweetness so hazy it could be tasted

A blurred line between dream and wake

Dewey eyes like the sky, clouds of sleep clearing away

A heavy, sugar-coated heart hoping for a moment to extend into forever

But knowing it is sacred

Because it will not