Eggs

I stayed in the milky silk of the bed sheets,
Wrapped daintily around my morning dreams,
While you sent breakfast smells in after me.
They lifted and roused with no snooze
And I soon found you baking, breaking eggs
And discarding the failed shells into the trash
In favor of the creamy spring and golden pearl inside.

And I thought, smelling your damped, showered hair,
And coiling myself around your busy baker’s arms,
That you were like an egg:

Everyone sees your shell, but you give me your yoke.
And I eat it and am better for it. But this is now,
And it took me so long to crack that shell,
I thought I should never really taste you.

Even now I confuse you for your name.
I confuse you for your character.
I confuse you scrambled for your shell.

But then I smell you while you make my breakfast,
And I smile into your eyes while I eat it, satisfied,
And I know that I have broken through
And I can love you,

Because there is us and something only we have;
Each other, our druthers, our eggs.