It’s 10 in the morning and I feel your hands and your eyes on me
Like I’m some masterpiece regenerated by sunrise.
You like to feel my skin first thing in the morning
Like it’s the first time or the last time or the one time.
The light from your window splashes over us like jazz hands
And you groggily lean over to kiss me and tell me I snore.
It’s 10 in the morning and I want it to stay there
But our clocks move on as we sit in time
The unfreshness of last night soaking in the freshness of morning
The fantasies of the late hours dissolving into the reality of morning rays.
Any onlooker could say we’re in love
But we’re only in love with the serenity 10am gives us
Promising us almost forever with its calm.
Isioma West 