Sleep

By Eric Y. Theriault

There you sleep,
So soft, so quiet
How could it be
that I be so lucky
to have two perfect angels to me?

There she lay,
as beautiful as one could be,
the woman of my dreams
the woman of my future.
Beside her lays,
our most precious son;
and I love her and him,
as much as one could.
So much that noone can see,
What exactly they mean to me.

eyt*