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my midnight sun
I wake up for a moment, as my feet disclaim its cover. I tickle my toes and turn my back from the wall, I glance at you. Then suddenly recall a couple conversations I had previously with some friends, discussing the poetry contained in that precise image, one laying next to another. Some would say it resembles a russian novel, fifty page description. Some would describe how time grows cold and suddenly stops, freezing the scene in a slow motion vimeo video. But to me, you are comparable to a midnight sun. I peer at the window and reassure. It must be 4am and the sunbeams enlightens the room through thick curtains. You came to me as natural as a half June night, at the peak of my highest latitude state of mind. I glance at you. What is it that you're dreaming with? I kiss the tip of your nose. You smile slightly and enounce one of those words that I'm recently fond of. It takes an instant, you're asleep again. One laying next to another, thinking I'm willing to give up stars to spend a handful nights with you.