Poetry

(after George Wither)
 
While gentle you lie sleeping next to me
I am thinking of stealing one small kiss
and between us both, kisses must come free;
is it some robbery if I do this?
Maybe looking at you, you will awake,
a kiss will not leave you poor indeed,
but plenty more is there only to take
while many more I do constantly need,
while sleeping you smile, as if to proceed.
 
[Reference: “A stolen kiss” by George Wither.]