Poets

While pulling your fingers through your soft blond hair, You send your sweet, gentle fragrance through the cool mourning air; With your eyes like puddles of rose fallen dew, two sparkling jewels dipped in a sky of blue;

Just the other night, as I layed in my bed, and thought of the beauitiful things she has said, of places she's seen, and books she had read, and all of the interesting lives she had led;

Eyes open, shadows dance across your view, sliding about your celing as you wake up to something new; You blink,