Bed With You

When you lie close to me, my dear,
on long, leisurely mornings,
no wonder I'm reluctant
to leave you alone in the bed.
I'd rather cuddle up,
stroke your thick, soft hair,
murmur in your half-attentive ear.

I love the way you stir a little,
stretch your lazy limbs,
then settle once again.
Your warm breath on my cheek
blows lightly, rhythmically.
I put an arm around you
gently, not to disturb.

You make a muffled noise
between a squeak and a grunt,
but your eyes remain closed;
you take a deeper breath.
Soon I must rise, I think.
Still I linger, smiling,
as you twitch your whiskers and purr.

April Challenge 29 (2008): Write a poem in the second person.
Submitted in 2013 (five years later!) to Poets United's Verse First ~ Body