I too, my darling,
Sit in solitude,
Scribing and dreaming,
Of You.

As I place,
On a sheet, of parchment,
Before me, calling it poetry,
My loving thoughts,
Of You.

To hold you, in my arms,
Blest, with love and charms,
In itself, is compared,
To a heavenly dream,
Of You.

No other words, would befit,
The image, I possess,
My most, loving memories,
In my thoughts,
Of You.

Wake me not,
As long, as on my face,
A smile, you observe,
And nothing else,
Seems out of place,
Because,
Of You.

By: William Bonilla........12/30/02