an arm wraps around waist
wisps of warm breath touch the neck
a spell being cast with words
good morning
All the calls of nature begin
water for purification into bowls
smells fill rooms
foul and sweet
here daily rites become my love
Seeing you tilt your head
this way and that
before a hand falls on your face
I agree with the mirror
your are the finest of them all
Clothes appear
transforming you before my eyes
I watch the ritual of adjustments
I find myself compelled
to copy the movements without the parts
A kiss seals the circle you step out of
and into the day spirits in communication
all through my time alone
I feel you through the smell of your pillow
taste you when I lick my lips
This is the beginning of memories
which possess me in ways
the future needs to be
magic in the mundane
to become my love
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