He thought it was the most divine thing,
When she lied down in his sheets,
Wrapped herself in the throw his mother crocheted,
And closed her eyes with the anticipation of his touch.

Tonight, he stood by the Oak dresser for a moment longer,
His shadow dancing on her eyelids from the hall light,
She fought to keep them shut as she smiled,
Wondering if this was the start of some conspired surprise.

Finally, he made his way to his side of the bed,
Crawled up very close to her and kissed her tender neck,
Something she always begged him for more of,
Moaning for the taste of his perfectly even lips.

She stopped him for a moment,
Opening her sleepless eyes,
“What were you looking at?”
In her voice, she forced him to reply.

Quiet at first, at a loss for the exact words,
He guided his fingers along her rosy left cheek,
“Even when your eyes are closed so tightly,
I see you looking at me,
For a change, I decided to look at you,
And might I just say,
That when I closed mine for a single moment,
I still saw you dancing with me,
Like on that very first night under the moon and stars.”