i love the little things you do, the small, hidden things you do. i love how your right eye half closes in bold defiance of the left whenever you tell a story. i love the curves on your back when you rise out of bed in the morning. i love the way your feet look when we sit on my front porch smoking the time away...and pardon the cliches and excuses, but i...at this time...cannot find adequate words to describe the depth of your beauty. in my dreams you walk on a reflecting pool of water and caress the waves with your footsteps, just as your caress my dreams with your presence. though early morning abruptly ends my dream and i awake to find you asleep, traveling through a dream of your own. my tired eyes ache to be closed with yours, resting a tired soul. but this body, which has perfected the art of functioning perfectly on only three and a half hours of sleep drags my tired eyes away from your sleeping form and escorts them to a glowing moniter. they rest there until they hear the rustle of the sheets, the sighs of stretches, and with the music of your awakening, my eyes sigh in harmony with your morning notes, for they are no longer alone.