You are words on a page,
Made in the bedroom like the unmade sheets,
Imprinted and unforgettable.

You are governed by mind’s eye,
The dew on the stem of grass,
The memory of a moist bottle of liquor.

You are the tall beacon lights,
Which float effortlessly over the sea.

The road to stimulation,
Which climbs abruptly,
One glance and I am out of breath.

You are the softest little breathless word,
The quill of crafted feathers.

The steam engine,
To the industry revolution.

The glow of volcanic eruptions.

The photosynthesis,
To my chain reactions.

You are the dancing silhouettes,
When the sunlight falls.

The catastrophic moan,
When the atom was found.

The tightest kite string,
In a bad storm with lightening.

The constant fluttering,
Of a humming bird’s tail.

The perseverance of a symphony.

The cardiac arrest,
To my therapeutic heartbeat.

You are the hanging gardens of Babylon.

The dancing transparent figures,
Among shuffled cloths,
Beneath the moon’s diabetic sigh.

The anatomy of a woman outlined,
by Greek mythology.

The flash of skin,
Seen through anxious trees.

And you are the embrace of poetry
Found between unfathomable languages,
and sounds,

For only I to hear.