the freckles on your shoulder

the early morning
half-awake
my unfocused eyes stumble upon you
the sun seeps in
sleepily
my languid limbs                stretch                towards you
everything is muted
as though we are submersed
in a slowed down
snapshot
of bliss
as though a tragedy is imminent
but there is no terrible moment of impact
only my fingertips
pressed
between the freckles
on your shoulder
with this
we are no longer stationary
in relation to each other
we are beset on all sides
by the calmly chamomile morning
                            tipped together tenderly

beyond the barricade
the clouds
crestfallen
sulk
retreat
and give way to the light

far off
a bird
but that’s all