Along The Corridor and Up The Stairs
She admired his beauty from afar,
And wished that she could paint.
For though no paint would ever,
Do him justice,
She could caress his face with her eyes,
Commit every blemish and perfection
To her never-failing memory,
And answer his never changing,
Never ending smile with her own
In every hour of waking.
She would dream of him
In hours of rest,
And as she slept,
Her bed would become his body.
Her blankets, his arms.
Her pillow was his chest.
And he would cradle her,
Keep her safe as she slept.
She was blissfully unaware
That he dreamt of the same thing.
One floor up, one room across,
He was dreaming of the same thing.