Poetry by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2022
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Sunny Morning
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Beams of sunlight tap against my closed eyes, almost like Fred Astaire across the sky
I run my fingers across the sheets and open my eyes
Where did you go?
I guess this morning won’t be too sunny after all
Rolling onto my back, I sigh and think of why you left so soon
Inhale, exhale
Oh, damn, it all went to hell
Wanting to go back to sleep and make the night before rewind when you were with me
But, morning’s risen
And, so must I
Sitting up in bed, I look around the bedroom
My bra, panties, and dress are all I see strewn in front of the room before me
Come on and get up, I think to myself
Twisting my body out of that bed, I yawn and stretch my legs and scratch my head
Starting to straighten up the bed and picking up those clothes of mine
A ray of the sunlight was like radar on an object near a chair by the window
My eyes followed that light of the sky and I chuckled, “My, oh, my”
Right blue, suede loafer that you wore last night was lying on its’ side
Damn, I remember the wild night before that we enjoyed a naughty ride
I whispered to myself, “Yippee, he didn’t leave and take flight”
Pulling hair dark brown back into a twist, I grabbed a bobby pin from the table and pushed my hair back & in
Hearing some clanging of pots in the kitchen, I slowly walked in and saw you grinning
Standing there in black shirt and pants, you looked like a Cash sort of man
Classic and cool you stood there tall
“Damn, baby, we sure had a ball”, I couldn’t resist wrapping arms around your neck
And, in return, with me you started to peck
You asked, “Did you get enough sleep?”
I kissed you over and over again and laughed, “Baby, last night you went so damned deep”
“The deeper the well, the more tales we can tell”, you smiled at me
We both enjoyed the thrill of the tango between the sheets
Your arms around my hips and our joining lips, caused us to forget the most important thing
THE TOAST IS BURNING!!
But, even though you couldn’t toast that bread just right
You filled me up really good last night
I guess this is a sunny morning after all
I’ll grab the corn flakes and you grab the bowls…..
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About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by Ms. Scott, go here:https://tonywarderotica.com/a-h-scott-venus-flytrap/
A.H. Scott’s book: A Missed Flight is available on Amazon!