weapons of resurrection
dance before my eyes,
is it your love that makes me so high?
i am smitten by your smile,
in love with your laughter and your inner child,
god bless this tempest.
is this all we have left,
of the tins of provisions
we were saving for our supper?
what has become of our anticipation?
do we wait or rush hastily towards the other?
what is spoken is merely pretense,
what is left unsaid is absent forever
so sell me the butter,
that you whipped fresh this morning,
into sheets of heavenly froth .
i am smelling all this wonder,
and am so hungry for your touch.