Tenderness

Tenderness
It is
A bit like early morning sunlight streaks on a crumpled bedspread
A bit like smiling to yourself in solitude
A bit like running your fingers through your lover’s hair
A bit like the glow of your bedside lamp when all other lights are switched off
A bit like the goosebumpy warmth of a nostalgic memory
A bit like a hand holding Rumi’s poetry
A bit like curling up with your favourite TV sitcom about to start
A bit like the first gently steaming cup of morning’s brewed tea
A bit like moonlight spreading dancing silhouettes of tree leaves on your bare chest
A bit like the searing saxophone notes on night drives, on roads lit by sodium lamps
A bit like the texture of Paul Simon’s voice on Kathy’s song
A bit like the methol-peppermint mist of foggy winter breath
A bit like the outline of your lover’s first sleepy smile in the morning
A bit like the pen curling through the letters at the end of a poem and then standing perched on the last full stop.