When I feel on my neck
My babies breath
When she thinks I'm asleep
And plants a kiss on my head
When she fills the air
With her tumultuous laugh
As she winks at me
Without a word being said
When she gives me much more
Than I should be allowed
When I feel her warmth
In a winter's crowd
When she gives me a clue
To her mysteries found

These are the things
That I smile about

When she reaches for me
And takes hold of my hand
As she gives me one more
When I thought none were left
When she saves for the last
Her very best
When she opens up pieces
I haven't yet met
When there's the slightest of turns
On the edge of her mouth
When she whispers to me
And removes any doubt
When she shows me the treasures
I could never have found

These are the things
That I smile about

I only want a woman
To cook and to clean
No other obligations
Do I really need

No hassles, no hurdles
For me to jump through
No one to tell me
What to not and to do

One that doesn't mind me
Doing nothing all day
Or spouting off mindless talk
With nothing really to say

A woman that does what I need
And then goes away
To do it all over again
On the very next day

Guess what I'm saying I need
Is a woman of some kind
That is all three of these
Deaf, dumb, and blind

It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away

As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start

But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save

Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out

Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone

Work © Mike Hauser & © Sia Jane