(It's amazing how a good old-fashioned migraine or two can make the creative juices rage.)
I wake up from a daydream,
A moment's revery,
And think I must be dreaming still,
The beauty that I see;
No artificial coloring,
No fancy-dancy 'do,
Just loveliness unfettered,
The radiance of you.
It's born beneath the surface
Where your natural beauty sleeps,
And no amount of makeup
Can improve what nature keeps.
The sun sets on your cheeks
And it rises in your eyes;
I wonder what I've ever done
To warrant such a prize.
Perfection is the only word
That captures what I see,
But even that says not enough
Of what you do to me...
I swim inside an ocean
Of incredibilitude,
Waking to the living dream
Of a moment next to you.