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Love's not so pure, and abstract, as they use
To say, which have no Mistresse but their Muse,
But as all else, being elemented too,
Love sometimes would contemplate, sometimes do.
--- John Donne
Today, of all days, it would have been nice
To wake up lazily, argue who goes
(Or comes) on top. But put that plan on ice;
I have to get up early, while you doze.
When you climb out of bed, chaotic hair
a gold wave breaking, and your breasts alert
as you are not, I won't, alas, be there
to watch you brush your teeth, select a skirt:
such ordinary things made wonderful
because it's you who does them. Making tea,
or fetching in the milk, you're beautiful.
I'm still surprised/delighted you love me.
But I'll be back tonight, and then you'll find
That contemplative love's not on my mind.
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