Hours

I want to be the ray of sunlight that slants across your cheek, whose warmth and light you wake up to. I want to be the window that lets in that light. 

I want to be the door that lets you into the porch where a mild breeze stirs and touches you; I want to be that breeze. The view of the sea that welcomes you each morning--I want to be that view. I want to be that sea. I want to be that morning.

I want to be the cool afternoon wind that caresses you as you walk along the shore. I want to be the sand beneath your feet. I want to be the horizon you look toward, I want to be the thoughts you think when you look at that horizon, watching the sunset. I want to be that sunset.

I want to be the sky you look up to when the stars start coming out. I want to be the constellations you look for; I want to be that one last, lost star that will complete your blanket of light. 

I want to be the moonlight reflected on the water, calming the tempests in your mind. I want to be the calm you seek, the moonbeam that kisses your eyelids close, the music in the waves that lull you to sleep. I want to be those waves.

The night that encloses you in its embrace as you lay dreaming--I want to be that night, I want to be that dream.