Sensibility

Sensibility 

I wait for the morning to wake you
and ruffle your golden flecks falling like dust on the floor when stemming me into a stupor 
and those occasions and those fleeting moments and those lucky days   
relight my willing, greying, ashtray heart.   

I'm waking you only to kiss those lips of cupid's-bow genes   
and my heart's racing and I'm rekindled and I shiver like the final flame.   
I am no longer a wet, finished match.   
Let's not watch the clock, let's waste the day away.   

Everything withered me into the ground   
so you could replant the seed.   
Bathing me with your blue-eyed watering can, basking me in your sun-mood glory 
and there's not a second of doubt and there's karma for goodness and there's minutes I forget who I was.   

And this may fall to deaf ears and I may fear and we may sail on the storm; 
but this feeling is so rare to come by   
I don't want you to wake to see how blessed I was,
                              how blessed I am.