He looked
out the window
over the old city
and saw the clouds
rolling in
from the ocean.
He felt
the cool breeze
across his body.
He turned quietly
and watched
her sleep.
The sheet rose and fell
with each breath.
"Is she dreaming
of a time
or a place,
of the sea
or of me?”
he wondered.
He laid down
beside her
and thought
of her brown eyes,
of the way she looked
at the world
and him.
He moved
close to her
until he could feel
the breathing
of her breath,
the beating
of her heart
on his body.
- Trevor Scott Barton, poems for a brown eyed girl, 2018
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