Breathe in, breathe out.
A rhythm to sleep's sweet song,
a dance that has no moves.
His body, my warmth.
His embrace for which I long,
frustrations of the day, all at once, I lose.
His touch, his sound.
O, but I must see his face;
a problem remedied by my dreams.
Sleep sings it's lullaby.
Our rhythms begin to match pace,
and we dance for eternity it seems.
He leads, I follow,
with his favorite dance,
as sleep continues to jive.
My turn, I lead.
Now I pick a dance,
instruments played by our emotions inside.
Our emotions match together,
a harmony to beat them all.
A song that sleep cannot create alone.
The playlist is almost over,
a final dance we must call,
and the rest, for now, we postpone.