The Step I Sit on in Your Kitchen

[This is a love poem]

Barefoot on floorboards,
Friday morning.
Watch as I trace house borders,
Nothing more.

Staring above the mountainscape,
Crumpled and creasing.
Gathering of the bed sheets,
Nothing more.

Quiet coffee conversations with
The same breakfast sighs
As birds singing at sunrise,
Nothing more.

Pen marks pose inside our footprints.
Friday mornings on the floorboards.
This is a love poem.
Nothing more.