The light, golden, made you a portrait. 

Your hair framed your eyes

and I am captive of your beauty - at 

ease with itself. 

Hunching over your book,

your profile turns even more seductive. 

Others obscure my sight, and I squirm

to see. To see you read with elegance;

You who will not fade. 

You're clothed in a deep 

blue. Like royalty. And as you sit

and read, I wonder: whose words do you honor? 

Inviting them into your dwelling - the chamber of your soul. 

Slowly, I rise and walk out - with one last look, 

in solitude asking, will this be the last?