Why is it
That just as my skin begins
To feel the coddling warmth
Of the emerging spring sunshine
That I long for rain?

As a poet,
I am gifted with
The graceful knowing
That in the midst of something
Beautiful,
I am living inside
A poem being written.

I'll marry you
If not only to extend
The warm breezy peace
Akin to summer nights softly spoken,

Because I need to hold you closer
Than the sky holds the clouds
For a time longer
Than the moon has chased the sun.

When I'm with you
I forgot doing dishes
Is even a chore.

What a horrid thought
To think I may die unknown
Only to become recognized
Beyond the wistful will of death,
Not because I'd miss out
On the fame akin to fluorescent bulbs,
But because I'd be eternalized as
The straws of my words,
Not sun-gleam of my being.

the cool, mid-afternoon breeze
flowing through my bedroom window
turns my heart to honey and
my feet into flowers,
rooted where I stand, though
I'm still not sure if I'm grounded
with the revitalization of defrost
or buried in unforeseen melancholy.

I eagerly await
To walk with you beneath
The shine of this summer's sun,
So maybe just then
You can feel a heat
Only rivaled
By the warmth
You bring to me.