The morning called her and she rose from her bed, ready to be refreshed by breakfast. She followed her routine.
Breakfast eaten, feeling refuelled, she lay down again, amongst the blankets that would otherwise be relegated mementos of babyhoods gone, their soft cotton a soothing embrace.
A yawn, a stretch, burrowing deeper into the call back to the arms of slumber.
She lies and her breathing slows, deepens, becomes in itself a soothing lull. Surely sleep has called her.
I look over, an eye looks at me, a little smile slyly shapes her lips.
She says, without words, this is good, I am resting, lying here, enjoying this pleasant morning time, I’m not asleep.
Later, later she will be, the lure too strong to resist but for those moments she luxuriates in the chance to savour the still, the quiet, the lack of demand and the comfort of soft old cotton.
© 2012, Penbleth / L. McG.-E.. All rights reserved.