Morning

Red streaks start to creep into the room
   As dawn begins, and the sun is on the rise.

And I touch her back: brown, I know, though I can't see it, and smooth as a baby's bottom, as they say.
   Her eyes, round and brown. He eyes (so disarming) that peer into my soul.

All is quiet, except we making love. The sun continues to rise
   And I could swear I hear the earth singing