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!
& far in need of her to love me.
& 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