In Prayer In Love

And she vows to catch,
Every single grey in his hair,
His head tilted to the side,
Through her eyes,
If he could see,
He would see a man slowly beginning to learn,
How to breathe,
To soak in the morning sky,
Hear the high octave of the nightingale,
Brush his lips against the dewdrops settled on fallen leaves.
Greatness in that moment,
She could foresee,
For a man is unstoppable,
If he chooses to rise above,
The tight rope he walks,
Invincible.
The trivia that plagues his spirit,
Knows the soothing fingers of a woman,
Every moment worth in gold,
Savoured.
The space between is no space at all,
His grace is such,
That a glimpse of heaven he makes allowance for,
The chance occurrence is beautiful,
When the twine embrace,
Passion has long been mistaken for love,
Love is in the aftermath,
Like a prayer that may or may not reach God,
But it originates in the heart anyway,
In prayer, in love the twine shall meet.