I can hear you sleeping
Like a softly penned letter that you plan on keeping
Sound asleep
Next to me
Under the ink of a drying sky

If I were a wordsmith
A creative license to puncture my journals with
I would write
Of the site
Under my green poetic eye

I'm a yearling
A callow school boy
In the eyes of love
A pallid virgin
Just a newborn
Barely breathing
In the eyes of love
I'm a yearling

As I share this pathos
The smothering poem breathes in a breath of prose
Breathe you in
And again
Dizzying features of love rush by

I'm a yearling
A callow school boy
In the eyes of love
A pallid virgin
Just a newborn
Barely breathing
In the eyes of love
I'm a yearling

Torn from a book of blank verse
Born from these pages I've nursed
Awakened by the sleeping eyes of love