End of Holidays

I'm in mourning
for the loss of the extra day.
That extra day
of waking slowly
to your scent in the sheets.
That extra day of your soft,
cool hand sliding across my hip,
welcoming me to the day.

I'm in mourning
for the extra time
to greet the morning's soft light,
mouth to mouth,
your belly moving against mine.

I'm in mourning for the loss
of the extra day
to taste the sweet musk of your skin
as I bite my way across the playground
that I frolic on every chance I get.

Kathleen Hover
01/06/02