Love is when I place my palm to warm her cold cheek,
while she is asleep on a winter night.
Love is when she smiles in her sleep,
Closing her eyes a little tighter
When she force her cheek against my palm.
Love is when her smile infects my palm,
Spread through my cells until it reach my lips.
Love is every moment I spent wondering about
The metaphors I absorbed from her innocent glances.
Love is bits of something I have felt,
And everything I am yet to feel.
Love is that smile which keeps peeping from a
Foregone time while I write this poem.