Work From Home

2:40pm, Thursday. Or is it Friday?

Beside me, she dreams

Dreams of castles and dragons?

Of spreadsheets and call logs

Of missed calendar invites or

Riverside bike rides with me?

Quartz earrings gently perched on shut ears

Golden hair waving to cotton pillow sheet

A cocoon of bamboo-down & linen

Her warm, lovingly calloused feet brush my legs

as I tap keys beside her.

A move! Did my typing stir my sleeping Halcyon?

Alas, she reaches a slender arm skyward,

Then down with a gentle crash,

And tugs covers over exposed shoulders.

Now its only golden hair

White sheets

And the symphony of breaths

As her form elevates and descends

Will she float away?

Clouds shield the sun

As if to deepen her brief slumber

A sojourn into the world of imagination

Where I hope, some part of me is guiding her

through perils of far away lands, treacherous foes,

To fertile pastures of tender embrace.

It’s 2:40pm. 50 minutes left before

My kiss brings her back to the realm of here and now.

My kiss, and synthetic charms of iPhone alarms.

I don’t know which she’ll find more irksome.