Stroking each fine strand
additional touch to lobe
despite my sneezing
you continue slumber
comforted by my free hand,
I make no demands
tracing your lines;
we have been drawing together so long,
you are my beautiful picture
at 5 AM in the morning.

My hand aged, but steady
with pure joy,
you were awake moments ago
making me laugh though tired.

I continue to draw you,
while you sleep...
and smiling while I'm writing...
you are my one
my Marky,
your breath tickles my pores.