Living Poem

I can’t figure her out, really. 

She’s like a living poem . . . the

times too numerous to recall when 

I've just existed in a daze, 

lost in her verse. 

 

Each night, in that mist of time between 

dreaming and waking, I lie in her arms, 

a happy captive of her sweet ways.

I silently wonder who is this alluring creature that can so

easily have me relaxed and aroused at the same time? 

  

Does she read minds? 

Gently stroking my cheek,

she reveals . . . 

I am the wink in your eye, 

the whisper in your ear. 

I am the shiver down your back, 

the tremble in your voice.

I am the beginning of all smiles, 

the end of all tears. 

Breath to breath.

She holds me close.

Now I know.

I am hers.

Copyright © 

C. M. Miller

Reviews

[Kelly Scheppers]

So, so lovely! I love your closing. It's one of those poems that simply stays with you, like the memory of a loved one.