This is Love

Hair grown wildly, unkempt in slumber
A smile from a dream across her face
In her arms, alive at last, again
She fears for the pain, she feels it
The slumber of loneliness no longer slept
As she awakes and stares into my eyes
"Good Morning" she says, before our lips meet

"I slept well," never again when she touches
Confusion grows, being in love is sadly alone
The touch is soft, the morning is sweet
Moments like these are precious, few
This is the essence of union, for this is love

© 1998, William R. Craft, Jr. All Rights Reserved