I sometimes lie awake and watch
your eyes move left and right
beneath the cover of your lids,
little birds scared or scary seeming
never to decide the way
they wish to go. And I
had something to add,
a reason for shaking
your arm, for chasing
you out of that slumber,
or maybe I just didn’t
want to fall asleep alone.
So lie down with me again
and pretend I never left the room.
hmv: sometimes you wish certain poems were written about you, hey?