Pending

I do not use the word home lightly. So when I sigh it into the crook of your neck, Believe that your spine is a timber frame, Your kiss a welcome mat, And your enveloping arms my front door.

It’s Monday, and your hair is messy. You haphazardly put on your jeans and shirt as you moan about the day of the week - and I love you. It’s Tuesday, and you’re stumbling your way around the room, trying to sort out the things you have to do. You stop to briefly kiss the freckles on my nose, asking me about my day - and I love you. It’s Wednesday, and you’re quietly sprawled on the couch. You pat the spot next to you and pepper kisses on my hair because it’s my least favorite day of the week (and you know it) - and I love you. It’s Thursday, and you’re wondering what the weekend will bring, but you’re still moaning about how the week is going by too slow for your tastes - and I love you. It’s Friday, and I’m surrounded by DVDs and snacks you’ve prepared when I was gone. You welcome me with blankets and warmth from your arms - and I love you. It’s Saturday, and you’re feeling lazy. You won’t let me leave your arms (or is it the other way around?) So you tuck me under your chin as we both wonder how much time we have left before sleep makes us miss each other’s faces - and I love you. It’s Sunday, and there’s nothing much to say but I love you.