Late at night I watch her sleep
and listen to her breathe
the slow rise & fall of her chest -
eyes chasing R.E.M.'s in dreams.
The way her fist rests on her chin
like she was deep in thought
a statue with a heartbeat -
the one that can't be bought.

Sculpted by the hand of -
whatever God you choose
with her resting in my arms
there's no such thing as blues.
Only the bliss of knowing -
that she is only mine
the perfect living statue
made one of a kind.