2 am; even the birds have gone silent
but you force your eyes open as if they were coated with honey
your voice drips with the sighing reverberations of sleep
it takes on a deepness that daylight doesn't hear
a softness gently inviting me into the depths of your arms
your slumbering voice could wrap me in its sleepy tone
like a duvet pulled from the bed on a snowy winter morning
and i'll bury my head under into the mellow dusk, lips curving up shyly
like a crescent moon hiding behind a canopy of leaves
and fall into a feathery cloud of dreams
enveloped by your voice
a soft breeze promising infinite possibilities.