Aneta Adamcová-Cruz

Transparent—

a misty cloud,
she floats above the corner of my bed;
in all her goodness, watches me sleep
night after night.
Sometimes she gets closer
and her presence wraps me
with silky-soft,
pleasant warmth
unlike my blanket.
Through fluttering eyelashes I peek
and dare not move.
To disturb her fragile being
would be my nightmare.
I breathe her in and out
to the rhythm of my thumping heart,
and my mind, clear of all distractions—
I wonder:

Does she know I see her?