Morning Sun

As I lay
morning sun,
through shear curtains,
bathed my bed in warm refection
some long ago timeless moment
now a vague memory
calm satisfaction, of generous ease.

Refusing to look at my watch,
my repose seemed a place without measure.
The pale yellow,
filtered by curtains and trees,
performed a ballet across my walls,
dresser, chair with clothes and
ran down along the floor to my bed,
golden dancing bedspread.

Jim Desson ©Jan. 16, 2005