that warm spot on the ground,
the one where the sunlight floods
the floor from through the blinds,
left little light lines adjacent
the hardwood pine paneling,
and it’s your favorite place
to rest your head, or instead,
maybe you just want to shine
and pretend, with precious eyes closed,
to sleep a peace I didn’t know you had,
but you know I’m looking on
so glad you’re mine,
with my half-crooked smile,
or maybe I’m yours,
and all this while, I had myself fooled.
saunterings 