Sunday, April 8th

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

I'm happy at this point

She sleeps peacefully,

A night of talking lead her to exhaustion.

Her breaths are modest,

Filling her lungs with the potential to stretch a grin
Ear to ear upon my face.

She's still,

A gentle corruption in the current of chaos.

I pull the blanket across her legs,

She does not stir nor show a single sign of being cold.

I ponder silently on the whereabouts of her dreams,

She has the ability to be anywhere,
Yet I have a growing suspicion that here with me is where she wants to be.

She sleeps ever so peacefully.


Submitted: April 09, 2012

© Copyright 2022 hoodlum. All rights reserved.

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