On the coldest night My Dearest, as winter just began

Raelynn Watkins, Contributing Writer

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On the coldest night My Dearest, as winter just began
memories of her, the softest voice I hear
hovers above me, and sits alone
as my consciousness dulls I think of her, My Love

My Dearest
A thousands roses could never compete to the warmth you bring
A hundred rings will never conjure such big smiles you do to me, with just a glance

Though, My Dearest I find myself misguided by others
I yearn to hear your voice, when I am away I am drowning
You lift me, as I grasp for air only satisfied when you speak

My Dearest, you have become my new voice.
It flows within my veins, easily heard- even when you’re not present
Though you always are to me

In my days I’ve seen nothing sweeter than you
On my dark days I envision you walking toward me- not yet smiling
Your head tilted back a little and you began to slow your pace
“Watkins”
I can hear it, everything
The way you speak
The way you laugh
The way you cry

I can feel it, you.
When your cold hands intertwine with mine
When you began to shake
And when I run my thumb over yours

My Dearest
You are my muse
You are my voice
You are the warmth I feel on winter nights
You are my favorite hand to hold
The sweetest eyes to look at

You, to say the least, are my love.

My Dearest
When you speak, it moves through me
You move mountains, and calm seas
A power so great, so taken for granted

I will tell you your worth
Speak the truth
Do the things you do for me
I will Live for You.

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On the coldest night My Dearest, as winter just began