I yearn for the day I stand before you,
and you me,
each denied no more of the other’s love.
The day I finally find myself able
to cup your delightful cheek
in my caressing palm.
The day your hair, fixed adorably as it is,
hangs a rogue strand
inviting a tender stroke behind your ear.
The day my desiring lips
can lean to yours in a welcome embrace,
arousing sweet fantasies come to life.
The day my cool fingertips
glide down the small of your back,
intimately drawing you toward me.
The day our hearts betray logic
to become our heart,
The day our eyes refuse to break contact,
as I say the words
my mouth was born to say to only you,
“I could swear I dreamed you,
appearing as you do now.
So much so that, in this moment,
I hope never to wake.”