In the still of the night
he came to me.
Kneeling beside me,
I could feel his feathery touch.
He was memorizing my features,
hoping I wouldn’t wake.
I was only pretending to be asleep,
enjoying the feel of his hand.
Desperately wanting to reach out,
but not daring to ruin the moment.
And I wondered about all he was thinking,
as he traced every crease on my face.
I wanted to open my eyes and smile,
as he placed warm kisses on my cheeks.
But I dared not even open one eye,
for I knew he’d then be gone.
© 2019 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-human-face-sleeping-lantern-4284892/
The Reluctant Poet 