Him – Poem

His brow furrows in the most wonderful way

my breath catches as I look at him

so beautiful,

so focused,

eyes skewed to the page before him

I ache with a physical pain as my arms reach out to touch him

wipe the hair from his brow

and linger there too long

but I won’t ,

shan’t,

because to do such a thing would be such as

thrusting one’s hand into the skin

of a peaceful lake –

to disturb his beautiful stare would be a crime of

crime itself

and so I stare

at him

a beautiful soul.

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