He rose at dawn with the birds

Stretched and half stumbled down the stairs.

The kettle click.

The cupboard door closing.

The low sound of bubbles.

The high pitch of china cup edges.

A moment of quiet.

The slow familiar creak of the stairs.

Step by step.

He brings me my morning cuppa.

On painful feet.

Carried with care.

Carried by love.

While my body

rests in a warm bed and

my mind dances off with

This play of words amidst the

morning light and

bird sounds.

And my muscles soak in the summer warmth.