We planted tulips in each other,
in the night.
While the rain played in street light
We intertwined,
As old roots or Ivy.

We left marks in each other;
Like pressed limestone,
Like Rock built into churches,
Like wave weathered slate.

I move the hair from your
Noctilucent eyes.
And we arch together
Like ash or poplar.
Your lips are warm;
A sirocco in the chine of winter.

Love,
It is this.
No greater no lesser
And though the deeps of oceans
May stand between;
The between of us is neither wide, nor far
I carry you with me
For my home is built of
What we are.