by John I Nash

As she sleeps so deep, her breathing steady and sure she does not know how my love for her has endured.

Her blonde hair now has streaks of gray but to me she has never changed from that day we first met.

I wonder what she dreams, I wish I could read her mind, is she as kind in her sleep as she is awake.

She turns now this one I love so, I can see her face all a glow. Wrinkles I care not she has my love all tied in a knot with a bow. I wonder if she really knows.

In her sleep she reaches out to touch my face and she sets my heart a fire with desire, a moth to the flame, I know it is insane but I have only my self to blame.

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