Sunday morning

Sunday morning...My summer dress got wet, a late downpour I guess, It caught up to me on the stairs and that's when I saw you there. You smiled slightly and put the newspaper over my head, I went to grab it and our hands touched. Brace yourself, close your eyes and take a breath, we're in love...You know that thing I fear? Well this is it...there's trouble here...that thing that I fear, I don't think I'll make it. You look at me, I slip and scrape my knee, you bend to help me to my feet. I'm scared to death. In your room, window open, by candelight. Chills from the dress I wore, now on the floor. It's warm down there...so warm. That's when you told me...that thing I fear. And I'm wondering why you told, Youve got my head spinning, where do we go from here? It's just you and me. Your eyes wont wonder, always on me. You smile again and hold me close, my dress on the floor catching a cold. Our lips touch softly, closing our eyes, the dawn is breaking and I've never felt so alive.1