I can hear you sleeping
Like a softly penned letter that you plan on keeping
SOund asleep
Next ot me
Under the ink of a drying sky
I fi were a wordsmith
A creative license to puncture my journals with I would i write
Of the sight
Under my green poetic eyes
But I'm a yearling
A callow schoolboy
In the eye of love
A palid virgin
Just a newborn
Barely breathing
In the eyes of love
I'm a yearling
As I shed this pathos
A smothering poem breathes in a breath of prose
Beathe you in
And again
The dizzying features of love rush by
But I'm a yearling
A callow schoolboy
In the eye of love
A palid virgin
Just a newborn
Barely breathing
In the eyes of love
I'm a yearling
Torn from the books of blank verse
Born from these pages I've nursed
Awakened by the sleeping eyes of loved