Lay your sleeping head, my love....

Chalk, charcoal and pastels on black paper, and as I drew the lines of W. H. Auden played through my mind:

Lay your sleeping head, my love, 
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephermeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guilty, but to me
The entirely beautiful.

Full poem here.