Alive Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr.

smeared by the intimation of trouble:
your first grip on my wrist
holding the palpable weight
of the world;
raptured eyes into the blueness
of intertwining azures.
physiology of eyes - yours are closing,
mine, falling asleep - in your
riveting quietude, anything that bores noise
would seem to collapse soundless
into the fullness of your being,
bodies lay like leaves on the brown bedspread
of life - jovial and alive.