Oh, these are the words that
dropped off the branch of
the tree hanging down, to
hover the river that
roils though shafts of
refracted light that shine from
sun dripping into your eyes,
giving amber sheen to hair that
surges and breaks under the sweep of a
hand picking up a pen to scribble the words
welling past your lips,
leaning in to press close to mine
off the page.