Contentment

By W. B. Allison

The other day it happened,

There was I,

Just having woken up in our room,

Seeing you asleep still, on your side,

And pulling the covers over your shoulder.

I then lay on my back, 

Looking up at the ceiling,

The paint starting to crack,

And the dust collecting in the corner.

The early birds were flying by the open window,

The warm morning breeze came through.

I looked back at you,

Then back at the ceiling,

And smiled as I did both.

I looked at you once more.

This was the strangest feeling of total contentment.

W. B. is a young poet, 25, from Gateshead/Newcastle, he writes exclusively in free verse reminiscent of the beat generation. He has 4 books currently on sale. He likes to see many of his poems as streams of thought and anecdotal experiences, this one specifically was inspired by a great feeling he had one mundane morning, waking up beside his partner. @billy_allison11