The Taste of Water
You are heartwarmth in winter
You are the wind that rustles
the orange and green ornaments,
delicately clinging
to wooden branches
You are a lonely thought
silently walking through my labyrinth mind,
barefoot and curious
You are golden silence
at my breakfast table,
the perfect mid-day sweetcake,
and supper’s sparkling silverware
You are the cold swell
my sandy shoreline summons
and the breeze to whom
my beach is betrothed
You are the scent of sweet memory,
the perfume of passionate whisper,
and the aroma of aura’s arousal
You are the dream in between dreams,
the delicate moment before waking,
and the time forgotten before sleep fell
You are love at its most selfless,
A heart whose blood flows infinite and outward,
A bind unbroken since time’s conception,
A weave unweathered,
and unwavering
You are the taste of water,
the sound of melody,
and the picture
of what beauty dreams itself to be.
