Joy in spilled juice

There are some days in life,
Precious and beautiful like jewels,
Not because you do anything,
But get to rediscover what joy feels like.
For me, i can just stay in bed,
The faint smell of jasmine
Coming through the open window,
And have you bring me breakfast,
A tray with a glass of juice,
Toast and a jar of strawberry jam.
You put on some jazz music,
And i joke that we’re too old
For this hour to be late enough for it.
You answer my jab at your tastes
By suddenly jumping on the bed.
It jostles me too much to adjust,
And I end up with juice all over me.
I pull the pyjamas over my head,
And that I can is beautiful in itself,
Just lying in front of you naked –
That I can do it without justification,
No jacuzzi party needed anymore
As an excuse to see me in a swimsuit,
No jewelry gift to see my lingerie,
No making eyes at somebody else
To keep me interested by jealousy.
You may freely enjoy my bared skin,
A touch that jumbles my thoughts
And makes me juggle the tray aside,
So I can trail kisses down your jawbone
And fingers down your backside
When we join together like jigsaw pieces,
In jagged times to match the background jazz.
There are some who find their joy in objects,
I’m glad I’m not one of them anymore
And I know that being here with you,
Just ourselves, free of judgement,
And with a half-spilled glass of juice
Makes today more precious than any jewel.

9 thoughts on “Joy in spilled juice

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