Through the Morning

I lie back in bed with you,
       the aromas of fresh coffee beginning to wake my senses.
Sound asleep, your body reacts to mine;
       nuzzling your blue hair into the crook of my shoulder,
              and clinging your arm around me.
I have to adjust your sheet--
       The worn and tattered beige fabric you always kept,
That made you feel safe as a kid, as a teen, and now as a man;
       A constant comfort when there are no others.
I press your hand, with mine, deeper into my chest
       Until I can feel your fingerprints on my heart.
In the mornings you chirp, ever so slightly, in your throat
       As you breathe into me, tapping on that eternal piece of us
              That is more than body.
While you dream, I keep you warm,
       And our coffee grows cold before we even have a sip.
              I do not mind, because it is not what gets me through the morning.