Early Morning Reflections

Picture credited to mygloriouslybustednose

I long to brush away
sun sutured red hair,
to trace dots
on unsheathed shoulders,

to kiss a bare blade,
and hear a soft sigh
or breathless intake of air.
As morning comes I would awake

still dreaming, a carnival
blurr, like early morning
reflections across the lake;
I crave to finger beneath,

to move aside a tangled mess
and reveal eyes that stare back,
unimpeded and full of sleep.
I yearn to move closer, palm

cradling cheek, nose to nose,
to breathe in breath
and finally feel the heat—
to rest in the moment of a dream.