He just sits there and watches her sleeping
Bathed by the softness of the light.
The shadows play against her skin,
hiding a moment, then revealing --
Pearl and midnight pulling him in.
The blackness of her hair cascading
invites a touch he gives only by sight
Though his fingers long to do the invading.
One night, perhaps, she will wake and see
as he sits there watching her in the dark
the love in his eyes, the things that could be.
Shadow-wreathed silver, his red turned to black,
she will watch him as he waits to see
And her hand, not her eyes, will touch him back.