Watching One’s Sleep

It is so loving watching one’s sleep.

Isn’t it awesome?

Whereas I never knew how do I look in that situation…

But the object of my prose,

That person sleeping next to my seat.

I wonder is it so truly loving and lovingly so true…

Unknown of what’s happening around.

Yeah, it looks so peaceful,

Maybe short but a tour of ultimate relaxation.

Do I have to think about you,

Or wonder even more.

Am I overreacting,

Or maybe I simply can't ignore you…

I smile at my own kiddiness,

Don’t I have a better job than praising a lazy passenger.

Alright if it’s not so worthy,

Why is it so unmoved that I had to appreciate…

Why so untouchable, That it kept undisturbed….

You’re eager if its a feminine,

Yeah, it is,

You made it sure the way I proposed her.

With absolute childishness and pitiful presence,

I figure out how she covers her hair,

With the finest art, she ever made.

Ears are protected,

Lashes give a look over sunk eyes.

And there’s no reason she awakes for.

There’s she makes a move,

I guess she’s dreaming.

Oh no that’s the prank of a wind chill,

She seems broken out of meditation.

You have words, maybe – may not be.

I did a trifle, loved it moreover anything.

I hope she forgives her penographer today.

But who cares and who’s apologising.

I’m just wondering I could figure out a better mermaid.

A Peneouver