It's two in the afternoon.
I'm sitting, like a bird on her perch,
Upon the kitchen counter top.
The smell of garlic wafts around,
As your chicken browns in the pan.
I'm admiring your expertise.
This is the time of day,
When everything feels at ease.
This is what it means to be content.
It's two in the morning.
I'm sitting, like a child at circle-time,
Cross-legged upon the kitchen floor.
We're a little drunk,
Relaxing with cups of tea in hand.
I am feeling the most myself.
The one thought that pervades,
As we sit in a comfortable silence,
Is that, for the first time, I am in love.
