i wonder how
these love poems fade,
slither like snakes
from my mumbly mouth
and into your soft ears.

you are ten thousand miles away.
and i wake up to your midnight,
but there is no smoother sound
than your wholesome
hearty voice
whispering
"what's for breakfast?"

there is no time.
for when you are tired -
sweat dripping from your small forehead -
it is time
for the wind to pull me out the door.

so rest, little dove
close your eyes.
you know so little of
how deeply mine heart cries.