Is it strange I watch you sleeping
weave my fingers through yours
listen to your breathing 
as if it were a symphony?

Is it obsessive to place my hand
on your heart, gently so not to wake,
but sure enough to feel it beating?
The early summer breeze plays a 

rhythmic tune on the blinds we close
against prying eyes, but they cannot 
shut out the noise of the lawnmower 
next door cutting down 

dandelions & fragile violets.
Am I delusional to hope watching you
will shut out time, that my love for you
will forever sustain the beating of your heart?

©2023marthahurwitz