Saturday Mornings

The sun across her cheek,

she stretches her arm to the right.

The bed empty, ruffled, cold.

Her eyes open wider and adjust to the light

as her ears begin to wake up

slowly tuning into the sounds of morning.

Soft thumps of bare feet on hardwood floors.

Pots and pans clatter and shuffle.

An out of tune melody floats down the hall

--the humming of an old James Taylor song.

The smell of coffee,

entwined with greasy bacon

and chocolate chip pancakes follows it.

She thinks about getting up,

joining him.

But she waits a moment longer

enjoying the how he lives

when no one is watching.