Dream

I close my eyes for a while and I wonder. I picture a crimson rose, and it reminds me of the blushing cheek which I long to touch. True beauty and grace being caressed by my coarse yet loving hands. I am in fear of touching your face in spite of want because I fear scratching away the look of an angel. The eyes, the eyes as soft as mist which surrounds me so I may not be seen, protecting me. The cheek, which remains to blush, as soft and as pure as a rose petal. The living velvet flower upon a mantle of mere grace and beauty. Then the lips, the lips that remind me of a pillow that I long to sink into for an eternity, full, yet sweet, as though I was tasting honey or candy. I can smell a sweet fragrance of cotton candy or bubble-gum when I pull away. I open my eyes and see the angel in front of me. I look down to see if I am really there. I can't believe I'm not dreaming, and you are really here with me. As I hold your hand in mine I close my eyes again and let them lift in return. Yes, you are still here. I know one thing for sure. If this is a dream... I never want to be woken up... never again.