Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

He watches the woman sleeping
And wonders what she dreams,
What images light up her inner
World, what voices speak to her
And what they say. She moves in
Her sleep, her hand touches her ear,
Brushes at the rim, her legs move,
Her feet too. He breathes in her scent,
The one that he had sent, the air is
Filled with her sleeping aliveness.

He wants to reach out and touch her,
Run a finger along her arm, feel her
Flesh again, but he refrains, allows
Himself just the sight, the image of her,
Just the smell of scent, the smell of her
And the sound of her breathing and her
Little moans and gentle words in sleep.

He wishes he could kiss her cheek,
Feel once again his flesh on hers,
Rekindle the sensations, but he doesn’t,
He just stands and watches and lets her
Being there give all he needs or wants.

If only he could just lay his hand upon
Her thigh, gently ease it back and forth,
Know the skin, feel the tenderness within.

He watches with his love for her, never
Wasted, never spent, but still there, listening
To her breath. He wants to make love to her
Tenderly again, as he did before his death.

Good reading, all the way to the surprise. Somewhere in here I have one on a similar theme titled The Revenant.

Thank you, Jim. I will seek it out.

I think the poem works well as metaphor for not putting things off ......to zero in now while you still can, and connect as deeply as possible while you have the opportunity......of course it works well literally, as well........

Thank you, saw.

It caught my attention, thank you for showing it.

Thank you, SadLuckDame.

I can only repeat what I have said over and over again. I love your writing. I envy your ability to read so much more into a picture than is evident. You never cease to amaze and please. This one brought tears to my eyes. The ending was so unexpected.

I thank you for reading & commenting.