Trickled dew,
adorns the grass,
our bodies touch,
sleep starts to pass.
Your hand finds mine,
my lips find yours;
your taste is sweet,
behind closed doors.
The wind sings soft,
while the trees all dance,
the sun peeks out,
to light our stance.
Eyes open softly,
warm creeps in,
I see your face,
my day begins.
This poem and the included image are Copyright © 2010 by Tiffany Cook.
They cannot be reproduced without express written consent.
Codey’s World website has written
permission to publish this poem. No other rights are granted.
