His eyes meet mine,
like the sun meets the earth at dawn;
Bringing the warmth to my skin.
His voice rings in my ears pleasantly,
Such as the babbling of a stream
Soothing my anxieties with its rhythm.
Many a night I've dreamed of him;
He comes to me with his crooked smile,
And a softness in his eyes reserved solely for me,
A promise that his love is mine.
YOU ARE READING
through toil and chance
PoetryPoetry for the doers and the dreamers. Poetry for the lovers and the fighters. Poetry for the soul seeker and the self lover. Poetry for the misfits and the outcast. Poetry for the classicist and poetry for the modernist. Pictures featured are not...
