Doux

And like that, time will
pass. With you waking me
up with kisses on the neck,
my arm around you, your
breath on my hair, you
will make pasta for breakfast
and I will complain. You will
hum a bad pop song in the
shower and I would roll my
eyes, and then we will leave for
work. In the afternoon, I will try
to remember all the reasons that
made me fall in love with you.
You will call around 2, during
lunch. How's your day babe?
Miss you too. Love you. Bye.
Back home, we will have
cereal for dinner and watch
the football. On Sundays
I will make Spaghetti and
Schezwan chicken. On some
Saturdays, I will sit you down
and draw you. The picture, like
this poem, will look nothing like you,
or anything that we imagined
would be. But we would still be
happy. We will be everything
cliché and beautiful.