Sharing a bed with you is like sharing the ocean with a
you are so small and soft and rounded, I can
fold you up and cover you with blankets of my love,
waves of my love.
You are precious and possibly in need of protecting but in so many ways
I cannot and should not protect you.
This life is as much yours as it is mine and if I were to
protect you from
anything beyond my shoreline
it would be misery to stand still.
Sharing a day with you is like sharing the wind
with a butterfly and the
metaphor may not work out the way I have planned it to but you
surprise me at the oddest times and so
I guess it works out after all.
I can hear you move in the bed you lie in; I can
see you resting and dreaming and allowing your mind to be
filled and unfilled with the contents of your subconscious and
I suppose if I did not adore you so
it might be
suspicious that I
watch you so closely.
But I love you.
And so I feel that it is only right,
that I want to watch you comfortable, peaceful, in a tidalwave of a
breathing in and out and
reminding me that life
is fragile and special
and, once, you might have been a pebble in the ocean
you are the lover in my bed.