When I think of you, I think of time.
I think of the privilege of watching each and every line,
Deepen on your face.

How like rivers they’ll weave and dip,
Bending and stretching as the curve of your hip,
Stories told as we’ve grown old.

When I think of you, I think of flowers.
I think of all of the blessed hours I have spent in your presence,
What a gift!

I see fields teeming with lavender and rose,
Fireworking nature, in all of her prose,
Mother Earth describes you better than I even know.

When I think of you, I feel effervescent of limb,
Like I might float away, on a whim,
And land just outside your door.

When you’re near, my heart thrums,
My foolish body goes nearly numb,
And I’m not quite certain what my brain becomes.

When I think of you, I am elated,
No, more than that, though no word really conveys it,
Suffice it to say:
I am hopelessly, splendidly, dreadfully in love.