Some nights are beautiful and sleeplessness can be enjoyed when thoughts relax us more than the torpor...
If you could drop one of your dreams,
On the path where you stroll,
And I could then pick it up,
To enter the room you conceived
Where through the curtained window,
A desperate moon might sneak in,
Onto the bed where you sleep,
And the moonlight like my fingers,
Will trace the contours of your face.
Perhaps I could lie on your brow,
And watch your eyes slowly open,
When you wake from your sleep.
Or may be I will rest on your lips
And let your breath play with my hair.
Or should I lay further down
And sleep to the rhythm of your heart.
On the path where you stroll,
And I could then pick it up,
To enter the room you conceived
Where through the curtained window,
A desperate moon might sneak in,
Onto the bed where you sleep,
And the moonlight like my fingers,
Will trace the contours of your face.
Perhaps I could lie on your brow,
And watch your eyes slowly open,
When you wake from your sleep.
Or may be I will rest on your lips
And let your breath play with my hair.
Or should I lay further down
And sleep to the rhythm of your heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment