Your life is like a paisley scarf,
Filled with twisted teardrops,
Big and little, colored like a garden,
Blowing in the breeze.
Watching it tips my balance,
But I can’t, not watch.

So drawn to the whirlpool
Of colors and sounds that generate
All around you,
I’m like a leaf in a wind storm.
One moment dry and brittle from the
Rarified edges of the storm,
Then pulled in close,
And filled with the moist heat
Flowing from your passion,
I’m made whole and fresh again.

I want to reach out, pull myself in,
And bathe in the essence,
Emanating from the center of
Your life, then toss back my head
And learn to fly.
I want to smell, and taste, each flower
That grows from your garden,
Like a bee in the springtime.

I want to be wrapped in that paisley scarf,
And tucked into a drawer,
Right next to the things you wear
Closest to your skin,
To lie luxuriously bathed in your scent,
And I want you to think about me,
When those garments catch, and hold,
The warmth of your body.

I want to wear you like a cloak,
And watch your swirling colors
As I dance across time, and space,
Showering you with pearls,
And laughter, plucking fruit
From the mountaintops,
Feeding you with my lips.

I could spend a lifetime
Counting your colors,
Kissing your flowers,
Swirling in the vortex of
Your passion,
But instead, I watch, and wait,
Until the storm whips that scarf
Close enough for me to
Reach out and take hold.