In The Morning Fair... Poem by robert dickerson

In the morning fair
before my lips have broken the seal of sleep
my tongue prepares
the syllables of your name.

In the morning fair
before my lids admit a glint of light
your image drifts
below them like slow cloud.

In the morning fair
still unperturbed by any spoken word
my ears recall
your laughter musical.

In the morning fair
I clutch your shape
in that sweet state
between asleep, awake,
in the morning fair.