Saturday Morning

I love waking up at Jill's cabin. The first order of business is to go outside and find a chair on the deck, often cradling a cup of steaming coffee in my hands. It had rained overnight but the pine laden breeze had already dried the seats. Settling in, sometimes with a blanket over my shoulders, most of the time I bring a book or journal but find that the creek and trees and sky are entertainment enough. Later I wrote the following. Noting that you, the subject of this poem, still follow this space, I have no clue if you actually read what I write here. I offer it in peace, just the same.  

Romantic Retrospective

Earlier
I realized over coffee
That it's your birthday
I am pleased 
And relieved
When I think of you now
It is with kindness
Choosing to remember
The undercurrent of anticipation
Over dinner
And what came later
You kissed me so deeply, completely
You rubbed my feet
Your eyes met mine unflinchingly
No hesitation or fear
You were just what I needed
That chill, gray April day
Experiencing more perfection
In those few hours
Than couples who couple for decades
I am the queen 
Of neat and tidy rationalizations
I may have wanted more of you
But find myself content
To have had the best of you