I am not one to be religious
But I find divinity in the crooks of you
Curled like cats in warmed sheets
I watch rosy fingers tangle in the blue
I count the rosary in your freckles
O hail Mary full of grace
These quiet seconds are my Sundays
As I watch the dawn caress your face
Your embrace is my cathedral
Held safe and fast between strong arms
Hands making better steeple
Eyes by far more welcoming and warm
Each kiss is like a prayer
Sacraments where lips may touch
Quiet wishes pressed to your hands
And hips and fingertips and such
My eyes trace lazy trails
Pilgrimage made o'er sweet cheek and limb
Soaking in the fleeting morning
Breath bated like the gasp before a hymn
Saddened am I that we must stir
But all must wake and face the day
And while I am not one to be religious
It is always for more time that I pray
YOU ARE READING
Poetics and Musings
PoetryJust a place to keep some original poetry. Feel free to leave feedback, I always am looking for it
