In the morning I think of you.

When I tiptoe out of the shower
and wrap soft towel

around
still moist skin,

I miss your touch,

healing and warm
like the terry cloth
around damp hair and breasts.

And I miss

your form,
the perfect fit to mine,
clinging to the parts of me
I now keep covered
with laundered whites.

And oh how I remember you!

Your awakening caress,
your gentle lips pressed
against mine.

But I dress and move on with the day.
Trade the memories for
number crunching and carpal tunnel pains.
Until the next daybreak
and the next daily ritual,
where once more I will be

Early morning missing you.