As half light comes to you
in serenity,
lids lashed to themselves, soft and deep,
worry escapes and lands as a gentle smile on me.
As desire turns to anticipation
of the characters to your face,
I am stopped, stone-still, to realize
I would lose this moment
to longing
or to remembrance
and miss the crescent in gray
fallen to the hollow of your cheek
as a smile that sunlight does not give to you,
a good night kiss.

I am given to see you at length,
without question or evasion,
as you pose for me most naturally.
Silver light in the night of your hair;
I see us as old together,
that I have settled on you gently,
brought rest from the labors of me,
and peace and dreams for as long as we are given them.

Fatigue takes you from me,
though it allows the form given you to speak clearly:
the fair most fair,
glowing beneath me as I beam at you,
and the unfathomable depths that fall about you,
drawing me to you,
the shadows of locks curving,
arcing through the dim
unseeing world at night
as random calculus
a measure of beauty as I would wish it to be
and then tossed,
a new equation as lovely.

You smile, your lips parted only so,
a joy of life lingering upon you,
as I do,
awaiting your return.
I would put mine to you
for the shape transferred
but will not risk losing it.
You offer
and sleep responds to the promise of it;
pressing on you lovingly,
aching for you awake and alive again.

I struggle to stay in this moment;
be full from it,
feel how it has made me,
draw strength from the emotion of it,
see that the wait to speak to you,
to touch you as I want now
is the meaning of this moment
as the culling of passion.

If you must be from me
let me voice my love more perfectly
in the bliss of your sleep.