A sleepless grace
A sleepless grace
~
It is in her quiet grace
the touch of her fair hand
the sleepless night
seems to pass so gentle
I look to her eyes
and find my soul rooted
deeply in place
like the chestnut tree
unmoving and steadfast
there for many a year
~
she holds my heart
in the realms of her own
the whispers of conversation
fill the gaps of silences
we talk of the day now past
and those days to come
we talk of the little nothings
we talk to hear each other
comforting to a sleep
~
I lay her upon my chest
her ear to my heart
listening to my every truth
I hold nothing from her
as she holds nothing from me
and there I celebrate
her gentle quiet grace
which claimed my heart
in the sleepless night
poem by Matthew Holloway
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