patron saint of crisp book pages slowly turning
in the pale dawn morning light.
a sincere exchange, unbecoming.
an entanglement of two intense energies,
mingling, flirtatious briefly.
"you are a flower."
sunlight now filtering through the beams,
caught in those warm eyes,
smoke and coffee mutually on our breath.
patron saint of holy ****, i missed you
more than i realized-
a ghost of the past
magnetized to this familiar feeling.