Protector

Candle flickers on the ledge,
Incense leaving smokey tracks,
Curling softly at the edge,
I watch you sleep on your back.

Furs, haphazard, cover you,
Fire cracks and leaps in the hearth.
Shadows beckon hidden truths,
Ice still grips your heart.

Young, so young, you appear to be.
Lines yet to crease your brow.
Lips, still full, do beckon me.
Yet concern is what rules me now.

In this small home, from ages passed.
You sleep, at last, some rest.
One hand trails the dusty floor.
The other lays on your chest.

Random curls cup and caress your face,
Your lashes long and dark.
I watch your chest as it rises and falls.
I hear the mornings lark.

Ive sat quite still for hours now
Not daring quite to breathe
Enraptured by where in dreams you go,
Wet cloak, by fire, steams.

A dog lay sleeping by your feet.
Its snores are loud, and yet.
He breaketh not my lovelorn feast.
Whose death must yet, be met.

Small crease lines your forhead
As your dream turns bad.
A scowl upon youths face.
A marring of innocence unbowed.
A tear my fingers chase.

I ache for you, in this time and space.
A creature I have known.
A wonder, yet to be retraced.
A heart and hearth, called home.