Just as sleep begins its journey
around the fringes of what is left
of awake within your arms,
those tiny tears wept in silence
escape eyes and moisten
the spot where only sweet dreams
till morning light should wander.

Each time, a promise is made,
in vain, to smile and ponder
the next time this circle of you
will capture me like a jewel,
or recall each slice of beautiful
that has come before,
a way to fill the hole that gapes,
the longing, loving ache.

Your heartbeat, your breath,
gently pressed against
the arch of a back
as senses seek to seal
a moment in time as memory,
like a teardrop in a mason jar,
a tangible gem, much like you.

But still, in those last hours,
before time steals us away
to here and there,
I cannot help but weep,
for in the 'morrow
your arms will be but a wishful want,
until we meet again,
where sweet dreams find us.