Let me brush the hair from your face,
And caress your warm soft cheek.
As I whisper love-words in your ear,
And feel you by me, warm and near.
I do so softly, so as not to wake,
Or disrupt the night-spell's magic.
I want to feel your breath so soft,
The angels' wings upon it loft.
A tear so softly wets my cheek,
My breath is drawn in deep.
From my lips a prayer is spoken,
That this spell will not be broken.
Of all the gifts that God has given
So many not deserved,
To this one alone I will hold fast,
Until I breathe my very last.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 8:53 AM UTC
Let me brush the hair from your face,
And caress your warm soft cheek.
As I whisper love-words in your ear,
And feel you by me, warm and near.
I do so softly, so as not to wake,
Or disrupt the night-spell's magic.
I want to feel your breath so soft,
The angels' wings upon it loft.
A tear so softly wets my cheek,
My breath is drawn in deep.
From my lips a prayer is spoken,
That this spell will not be broken.
Of all the gifts that God has given
So many not deserved,
To this one alone I will hold fast,
Until I breathe my very last.