Love Upon her Face

She Smiles!

Lord she smiles!

She smiles & my face is a burning, glowing wreck of all these distant dreams!

Her face is bright!
Her face is alive & free & scrunched up in such purity!

Because of me!

Because of me?

That I should care that some other power or source or deed or whimsy provokes her beauty to fire into such perfect form!
Yet I doubt in every second & every chance & every thought, I doubt & I am saddened & disturbed & wholely confused that I am not but the gift to her which creates such fun & sweet delicious scenes of joy.

For I am selfish!
& human!
& far in need of her to love me.

I pause.
& think of her.
& see her face.

That beautiful, delectable, delicious face.

That I could tell her of my thoughts & wants & heartfelt dreams.
That I could stand there before her & hold her hand or cusp her face & say these words which fall out well upon this naked page
& show her love.

For even with the sin of man bursting from deep within my ageing heart,
I love her!

& love should be the source & centre of all that which beams upon her golden face!

That happy, cherished, perfect, beautiful face.

That I should love & she should know.
But words remain a secret & to her unknown.

– Her face enthrals me.
© ed simkins 2016

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