not with dread, but hope;
you should be standing hair wet and shoulders dripping, face turned to the sun rising over the trees, feeling its warmth creep across your cheeks,
breath shallow then deepening, a sigh to a cry,
confusion lost, and for a moment fulfilled;
the chill of night gone,
the sunlight absorbed.
There should be a smile, a wink, a whispered yes,
I am, you should say,