Sunday Morning

I see your face in the morning
When it comes into my mind.
Gentle sleep I'm mourning;
My eyes can't close in time.

I picture you sleeping softly
As your hair rests on your face.
Your eyes close and open slowly
A little smile comes into place.

I wish that I could use my hand
To cup your cheek so gently,
And caress every little strand of hair
With love that comes intently.

I imagine you so close to me
That I can feel you breathing,
With a hand on your face, maybe then,
Your image wont be leaving.

My heart is ready for whatever
Your mind could think to do.
I've been waiting for this love forever--
I know you have been, too.

My hands are empty; waiting
For your light hands to squeeze them.
My heart is just inflating
After many months of feeling damned.

I wish daily to hold you close
With my arms around you tight.
When will we be alone? Who knows
But everything feels right.