Holding On

Lay your head upon my breast.
Hear the beats of my heart.
Do you hear them skipping beats?
Do you know what tears me apart?

Tis the thought that when you leave my breast
I will feel the cold.
And so I hold on tight to your head
as if it were made of gold.

But it far surpasses that precious metal
for its value can't be measured.
For it holds your eyes, your mouth and smile
which will always be treasured
by me.