I get home late one day and find you there
Your head hanging softly, curled in a chair
"Frost" in your hands, your hair swaying low
Your delicate face pronounced in the glow
I put down my things, quiet as I can
The night has grown tired, I turn off the lamp
You stir so gently, and realize I'm there
Your greeting is warm, a kind worn-out stare
The day has driven us back into bed
Only to wake all over again
But to be in this cycle, repeating with you
Is all I've ever wanted to do
With you