Early in the morning, the light sneaks in,
through the crack in the window,
to the covers you are burrowed under,
a flash of shoulder in the sun.
You pad down the stairs, dodging cats,
There is a kettle to start.
Let the cats out. Turn up the heat
The simple trappings of love.
There are words of course.
It is Valentine’s after all.
Words, on cards, from lips,
All part of the celebration,
woefully inadequate, but
all I have.