Silky sheets covered our soft skin,
while sunlight was slipping through the cracks of the curtain.
A yawn escapes his peachy plump lips with the smell of gin,
and the clock strikes two in the afternoon,
with the coffee just beginning to brew.
Slowly getting up and stretching every limb,
no need for rush and taking our sweet time.
We play mellow music in the background,
we sway to the music side by side.
Losing tracks of the pancakes that are sizzling in the pan.
Syrup all over the black and golden crispy pancakes,
a sticky mess as we share one fork.
Sitting on the porch with a book in one hand and an orange in the other,
I can feel his stare intensely up into the gloomy sky.
Lighting strikes and we head inside,
towards the couch right beside the window.
We sit in a comfortable silence,
taking in the sunday vibes.
Slowly we drift off into a nap with my head on his lap.
(A SHORT STORY) -S.L.