chances are, you’ll find me in my dreams-
marked from head to toe in beauty
and you’ll carry me to bed.
chances are, if you don’t come,
I’ll find you- never truly rest
without your voice coaxing me to sleep
counting sheep.
you’re a blessing with those eyes-
petals of an opening tulip
your grace is a tidal wave of beauty,
hard to fall asleep with that image,
never waking from an embrace only described in scripture
she’ll find me.
pitter-patter across diamond tiles
she’s calling me
and I’ll come in a hurry
flurry, leaving traces of presence like the past
but I’ll wake up.
trying to reenter the door, revolver
blocked- I’ll be back tonight
it’s the best part of the day
Saint's Muse 