I find if pleasing when you sleep.
Younger you look, and lovely too.
Not hurt by my words or angry at my actions.
Stroking your hair; I love you too.

Then your face turns sour from a nightmare.
I hold your hand and bring you tighter.
And then its peace and quiet.
More like an ember than the fire in my lighter.

Your grip is fierce but somehow needed.
Even in unconsciousness I am your stability.
Or your balance, you balance me well.
I love you so well, its my only ability.

I like the silence and the sound of your breathing.
The smell of your body and hair.
The cold touch of your small hands on my chest.
Then I think we make quiet a great pair.

So innocent without any worries or troubles.
The sunlight brushing your cheeks.
But the days fly by and I’m left with memories.
I held you last night, what happened to the weeks?