Fields of Poetry

I don't know how to love him
What to do, how to move him
I've been changed. Yes, really changed
In these past few days when I've seen myself
I seem like someone else . . .

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Waking Up

Waking Up

Waking up to see you near,
sleeping quietly,
peeves me dear and when you stir
I’d freeze, stay still and be;
breathing in the morning cheer
that early sun rise bring.
Then giggling with a knowing grin
that you will smile for me.

Curtains dance with singing wind
that passes through our window;
single birds glance by our bed
room, curious as the widows
next door . . .

Waking up to see you near,
sleeping quietly,
tickles me that when you stir
I’d hug you, silently.
Caressing you with all my heart
each morning that I rise,
I’d whisper words of hope and love
to keep you by my side.

Bells and cymbals all around
would ring into the sky,
petals flutter in the spring air -
white doves takes a lover’s dive
outdoor . . .

Waking up to see you here,
sleeping quietly,
please me dear that when you stir
I’d kiss you slow and sweet.

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