Please God, let me be the first

 

It was wee hours of the morning
I was the first one awake
but stayed in bed
listening to
the sounds of the world
that included you
curled up next to me.

The silence was almost eerie,
I could not even hear
the quiet murmurs
of your breath.

Panicked, my mind took
a fantastical flight.

What if I extended my hand,
it wondered,
and touched your weathered skin
only to find it deathly cold.

Then what would I do
with the rest of my day?

Would I wander aimlessly
from one room to another
a sense of disorientation
clouding my eyes?

And who would make the breakfast of
hash browns, bacon, and eggs
(with the yolk gazing up at the sky)
to jump start my day?

But then you stirred
and broke my reverie
of indulging in a fantastical daydream.

I closed my eyes and prayed
please God, let me be the first.