Apple of My Eye

By B.L.
(A poem from my father to my mother)
 

Sometimes I can’t control myself

As in a summer dream.

I cannot make my hands behave

Just like an octopus

I want to squeeze and hold you tight

From morning until dusk.

Sometimes when I am running

My fingers through your hair

And fragrance from your best perfume

Is present in the air.

I want to say this can’t be real

This softness, beauty and all

She knows she’s the apple of my eye

She knows she’s on the ball.

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