at the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet. .

Your Presence

I can still remember those nights
Those quite nights
When I would lay my head to His chest
And try as I might
My soul found no rest. . .
See
The simple beat of his heart
Pails in comparison
To the
Rhythmic melodies
Yours would play as you slept.
I can still remember those nights.
Those quite nights
When I would lay my head to Your chest
And with ease
Effortlessly
My soul
Found rest. . .
Silent I laid
and just listened.
While others counted sheep
I was counting
Each breath you took
Those breaths
Your breaths
With each I became more
Thankful
Just to be in your presence.

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