You'll ask me why I go back to memories every time. Well here's my answer.

Soft sunshine played
with your golden hair,
teasing your eyes
and my heart
into imagining
all kinds of art near the sea shore.

Doodles of the lone yellow blossom
pepper all my books
from the last time
your loving looks
swept like waves across my messy hair.

I couldn't help but stare
when you looked across the sea
to the other side,
and we wondered
why gaps are never deep,
they're always w i d e.

And the melting music
that flowed between us
showed me that
silence with silent notes
from me to you
are better than
the violence of interactions,
that my thoughts f
                                  l
                                      o
                                          w
                                              d
                                           o
                                     w
                                 n
                         in words,
and your words in f/r/a/c/t/i/o/n/s.

Matching your pace
through hooded lanes,
wooded alleys,
your laugh made me
want to find warmth
in every valley in my heart.
Our hands on fresh book spines,
touching worlds far,
                                     far away,
the two of us drunk
on the wines of company and conversation.
If touching words that made no sense
to either of us were a dream,
honey I'd like to flash it across every screen.

You'll ask me why
I go back to memories of you
every
single
time,
and I'll tell you
that our time is sacred, jaan.
All my hours are yours
and you are mine.

You are the waves
b r e a k i n g
against the sea,
You are the golden sunshine.