To reach out
and touch your cheek,
thistledown-light finger
upon the peach-fuzz softness
that is your skin.
I am quiet, reverent
not quite daring to believe
that this sleeping human (you
are so much more than human
and yet your flaws are compliments
to your other-worldly perfection
that root you solidly
to my terra firma) could ever exist
let alone exist here and now-
sleeping so soundly, so peacefully-
and you are mine to touch
as gently as I please.