Dreams And Smiles Poem by Frank Ian Bowen

You lie quite still in morning light,
bathed so softly, eyes closed tight.
Your hair cascades ‘cross soft white sheets.
I see your neck; your slow pulse beats.
You’re so relaxed, no hint of fear,
yet from your eye, a small, wet tear
is forming, growing, larger still,
a dream perhaps, made sad, until
the tear rolls down a perfect cheek,
around your ear, and, as I peek
it reaches pillow, a small, wet spot,
to mark your dreams; or maybe not.
I feel such wonder as I gaze,
your simple beauty never fails.
Your form and shape beneath the sheet,
now make another soul’s heart beat,
and slowly now you stretch and stir,
a soft, low sound, much like a purr,
I hear escape those perfect lips,
your hand pops out; touch fingertips.
I can’t resist your slow, warm smile,
let me keep it here awhile?