Wasting Time

My eyes are still closed, as my dreams fade away.  I’m cozy and I’m wrapped.

But even before I’m fully awake, the day is being mapped.

Time is so precious.  It’s of the essence. Must use it wisely, they say.

It’s Saturday morning.  Farm chores are warning, don’t while the minutes away.

I’m making my list. Mentally ordering tasks, and wiping out the sleep.

Near seven o’clock.  Time to wake him up, and out of bed we’ll creep.

So I scoot to his side, put my hand on his arm and give a gentle shake.

He rolls over and sighs, and gathers me up, and whispers, “I’m awake.”

Now wrapped in his arms, I settle back in to a semi-conscious state.

Another half hour of quiet half-sleep.  Our chores might have to wait.

I should be up, cooking bacon and eggs. The morning bells are ringing.

But here, in this room, there’s a tranquil peace, as birds outside are singing.

He should be dressed and out in the fields, before the afternoon heat.

But instead he smooths my hair from my face, and gently, our lips meet.

Almost eight o’clock and we’re still soaking up the love that we are sharing.

As the minutes pass by, our priorities lie in the rings that we are wearing.

We cuddle awhile and I make him laugh with some silly conversation.

“Get up!” he jokes, as my side he pokes, “You think you’re on vacation?”

That long list of chores that runs through my head won’t be finished in forever.

But this time we are spending is time we are mending our very hearts together.

What a loss to the Us if we hadn't shared the tenderness we've tasted.

At nine, as I rise, I proclaim with a wink, “Another morning… wasted!”