On a Saturday morning,
The birds are twittering about in adornment
And the sun exposed a yellowish tinged
Onto the glass of the window,
Which in formation made a spectrum
That reflected off your face.
You were soundly asleep
And your marvellous pink little lips
Were slightly ajar.
I just couldn't stop looking.
I stared, glimpsed, glared and couldn't stop nagging within.
Was it all in vain? I do not know.
All in my thought was that I couldn't exit a room full of beauty flowing all over.
A clear definition of a smooch is all that
Came to my mind for it was a morning routine.
I can't get enough of you.
JOHN WYCLIFFE
BUKENYA
YOU ARE READING
BALLAD
PoetryA sleeping beauty who's caught the mind of her own lover every early morning as the sun rises. This is because he always loves watching her about to wake up while the sun torches it's yellowish tinged light off her beautiful face... He just cannot e...
