Your tender words caress my face
and seep into my skin.
Soft soliloquies, quiet rhymes, rhythmic patterns,
they swirl in my mind
and are painted behind my eyelids while I sleep
or as I think of you and smile.
The whisper of your fingertips
reminds me of the brush of your pen
and the tumultuous emotion from each word
brought forth from your mind.
Your poems of love impart a sweet nostalgic ache
for the passion I'd never felt
until your words flooded my thoughts
and allowed deeply seeded flowers to grow into a full bloom.

And I think
maybe it is not you I fell for,
but the sweet, sweet, song you sing.