5 more minutes
I love the way you keep me in bed. Wrapped in your arms, for just five more minutes. We have to work, the world, and each of us in it, we must do our jobs, go to work, make money. Pay our bills, live, love, and work another day. I don’t like it, not when it means leaving the sweetness of your body and your arms and our bed. My morning alarm sounds, I lean over to hit the snooze button, and you pull me back in. Back to your chest, in your arms, against your warmth. I drift back to sleep for five more minutes.
The alarm again. This time, I linger at the edge of the bed. I know I must get out of bed, but I just can’t. Your arm finds me and pulls me back to you. Five more minutes. Again, my alarm. This time, closer to the edge, but your arm still pulls me back. For five more minutes. The next alarm, I dangle my feet off the bed and prop up on my side. You slide over, grab me and pull me back to you. No, not yet. Just five more minutes. I don’t want you to get out of bed yet. Just five more minutes.