Sleeping With The Poet

While others sleep with the enemy
I lay in comfort next to the epitome
of life and art. Of words that never die
but sounds that illuminate throughout the night
Of dreams that are brought to life
by words bouncing off the walls on to
horizontal lines with no extremities
I lay awake to see what peace have taken over
What difference the face of a poet has
when calm takes over. As new life
gathers inside the quiet soul,
the old expel as mere words could.
And each breath represents a stanza of love
In my mind I write a poem for the poet
Unlike the poet, I'm unfortunate to carry a pad with me
whenever with thoust...
One day, like the words the poet creates
when late at night restlessness take over,
it is I who would become the poet
and the poet,
my poem.

--

A thousand times if I could, I would
kiss the lips of he who sleeps beside me
breathing kindly and softly
Speaking to me in only words I deemed unimaginable
I want to saty beside you and dream with my eyes wide open
Rest my hands upon your chest and grow in synch
with your heaves and falls.
To outline the portrait of beauty that you possess
if only just once you would see what I see
To be drawn into you with just words
you have to be truly
someone special.

To go through the day, as tough as it may get
and see you in every small bit of goodness
makes for a day that leaves me smiling
A day that's worth being here, alive
in your presence, madly in love.

Pea