Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Pure Heart by Tirsa Stewart

Pure Heart

6:30. Too early and he's awake.
Cooing and gooing in my bed,
smacking the covers and my head.
He leans his face on mine to entreat me.
I kiss his cheek with tender affection.
Dropping an inch his head meets the crest of the lips still sweeping that perfect skin.
His pleasure must be greater than mine; his eyes close.
I follow up and kiss his closed eye,
his tiny brow,
his precious head.
Pleasure and peace have overcome him.
Deep breathing. He is asleep.
I arrange him.
He is asleep.
I arrange me.
He is asleep.
I hear him and feel him and...
I cannot sleep.
Wondering at the thought that some kisses brought him such joy
And he received it so fully.
A pure heart is simple, and thought breaks not it's intelligence.