My Reality

The eyes of an angel, sparkling in the rain, glowing in the sunshine,
“That’s how I roll,” he says with a grin, jovially playing games with my mind.
The arms of a man, strong and sturdy like a log, bending around me,
Holding me close.
“Te llamo,” the words flow from his mouth, as awkward as a child learning to walk.
Leaning close, the radio playing softly in the back round, he pulls my hair from my ear,
It pulls away gently as a soft lace window curtain does in a warm summer breeze,
Leaning close he whispers, his breath rolling across the tender skin,
Like the ocean tenderly grazing the shore,
“It will work out, I promise.”
His arms around me, holding me secure, with the right amount of compassion,
“Everything will be okay.”
The eyes of this angel, penetrating my soul, see the fear deep within,
“We won the World Series!” he laughs, his inner child being with him again.
Breaking the awkward silence to alleviate my fear, he talks,
With his low and gentle roar.
“You’ll never guess what I did,” mocking his stupid mistake of the week,
Sitting there, my head upon his chest listening to the beat of his heart,
His hand moves through my hair,
Sending jolts of ecstasy through my body,
I melt like ice cream on a warm summer day.
“Te llamo,” he says again.
“I love you.” He says in his heart.
“Be mine?” he says with his grin and his eyes.
His grin like pearls in a gloomy sea, shining bright, gleaming like stars.
The eyes of this angel that penetrate my soul look at me once more.
The radio remains playing softly in the back round,
Nature’s silent night serenely beckons for sound,
We remain in each other’s embrace.
The lips of this angel kissing my forehead,
Just the right moment, to know what it means.
“Te llamo,” he says again.
“I love you,” he says in his heart.

Hayley Brooks