The rosy fingers of the dawn unbind
The heavy curtains of the fading night;
And stealing through the sash, soft rays I find,
To bathe thy sleeping form in amber light.
Thou slumberest still, a statue carved of peace,
While silence holds the room in sweet embrace;
I watch thy chest rise with a gentle lease,
And trace the holy contours of thy face.
The aromatic steam begins to rise,
A simple offering to the coming day;
But all the splendor of the azure skies,
Is naught compared to where my lover lay.
So wake, my heart, and greet the morning star,
For thou art brighter than the beams above;
No joys of earth or heaven stretch so far,
As this quiet hour of domestic love.
Drawing inspiration from the Romantic tradition of Keats and Wordsworth, this piece elevates a mundane domestic moment into a spiritual experience. It emphasizes that the profoundest connection is found not in grand gestures, but in the quiet observation of a loved one at peace.
