Pressing

Pressing a question against the future
Wondering, as I always do, what will be;
What we will cook tonight,
Then, will you be awake when I get up,
Your eyes lit from the night, in the morning light.
Our days stretch, tumble, disordered, humored.
And I press a question again, again
Silently, in the quiet garnered from
The edges of our time spent together.
Through a long narrow window I look out,
Particularly when there's fading gold.
I am looking for the future to come
In from the withdrawing day.
Tonight you will be awake while I sleep
In bed struggling with the empty side.
Along with our morning coffee I garner
Touches, breathe loving looks over you, let
Desire sigh for one moment, pass over,
To this or that, pass the time, and wonder.
I'm always wondering, you know, silently,
Pressing a question against the future.