I think of myself

As if looking

From up above

And the expression

That I would wear

While laying here

How would a painter

Paint this smirk

Of contentment

How wonderful

On a Sunday morning

To sleep in

Baby on my arm

Breathing softly

And white sheets

Perfectly warm

While the wind

Blows outside

I wear this smirk

With my eyes closed

Staying silent

Breathing through my nose