The grace of your limbs and your falling hair
   cataract on my daily minutes like spilt tea.
Colors and fragrances of delicate beauty,
   interwoven in two tones.
An auburn hue encroaches on the edges
   of the sequence of events that is my life,
       and you are the center of their waveform.
A softly spoken word, let loose on the edge of a thought,
   an unspoken meaning and a leaning towards each other.
It is as your hand is in mine,
   when I look at you from a distance,
as if our words are a dance,
   a rhythm,
       and our smiles the melody.
Counterpoint, your responses feed my breath
   as water to a leaping gazelle,
and my heart beats with the pulse of your next smile.