i will bury my hands in your soil because its here i intend to root; not afraid of the dirt but i come here to bathe you in light and caress the blooms.
i will sit in silence with you understanding the mind can be loud and chaotic like a summer night in Harlem. its my position to make you feel like New Orleans on a warm spring sunsets eve, under my favorite peach tree.
i sense the waves in which i too want to be freed so i can drown in the harmonic life it offers. you are the fruit of heaven with 8000 pulp like nerve endings and juices that can only be conjured by the one who is rooted in your soil.
so i follow you like rivers, love.