Poetry

It’s your image I wish to reflect in my wet, shiny eyes
When I roll over on my side, as I open my slumbering eyes
Step out of my melatonin induced lucid dreams
I wish only to see our slumbering self
 
Wrapped in the blanket of my love with whispers of my scent
Devout to your char
My endeavor is your groan and shines in your speech.
 
My days shall then no longer be counted,
But race in retrograde as you bring the child within me out
While holding her hand, once again show her the beauty therein