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