A rhapsody for my Rodney (I.P)

I have come to the borders of sleep
and found no solace.
The toss turned sheets whisper of entwining limbs
The sandman cometh to my resting place as my fingers outstreched in mid caress
find a home on your cheek;the side of your neck.
My lips part in decline to the waning waking hours
and I succumb to the newest of the heavenly powers.

I feel a quiver travel down my spine, waking long caged butterflies.
Down southwards it goes and enters the valley of the falls, a place where dreams undreamt unfold and play out like a symphony;
A melody made out of breathtaking notes,dedicated to you, much like this soliloquy.

I come yet to the borders well known
but my will does not permit me to wander that land for long.
For even in the throngs of a slumber sweet and deep, my heart cannot rest until our eyes open meet.