His Name Is Morning Poem by Cat Hodgson
His Name Is Morning
His name is morning
He kisses me quietly
With promised warmth,
As swallows dance above the meadow
Breeze whispers a touching melody
Far away stands a ghostly white oak
Reaching to heavens glory
Scents of floral fragrance utters
Blissfully to relish
Goose flesh ticks across my skin
Yet I know this is a moment
One to hold a little while
As he has me in his embrace
Enchanted, it’s been so very long
Winter tried to steal the romance
Rain came to chase it away
But so lovely is my Morning
I wish for him to stay
© cat hodgson
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4/30/2024 6:53:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
This poem brings to mind one of those mornings where you wake and stretch and just savor those few moments before having to arise out of that oh so comfy bed!