I do not mean you as a metaphorical you, however "you" as in an undoubtable "you".
"You" may not see the panes it break. When "you" say my name my heart does wince with sweet, sweet soliloquy. When you hark my name, I turn away from the audience of strangers, and direct my speech unwavering toward "you". Now "you", with unwavering focus, hear my words back, ringing in "your" ear. "You" are the one. "You" my new-soul does love to hear speak. In silence "you" are a beautiful picture: with "your" hair long and brown, "your" eyes glowing green, "your" lips like pillows for my lips to dream. And when my dreams do meet their reality, "you" will fill my soul with sweet, sweet music.
Syllables leep and frolic off "your" tongue as children do play, in adolescent beauty and wonderment, in the fields of sping-time. They seem to adhere to "your" mind in both articulation and in reckless abandonment; they flow from "your" mouth like sweet, sweet sound in waves unbroken by thought (though I know "you" think before "you" speak).
Other me's may not hear the sounds that I do when "you" laugh, and giggle, and emote your beliefs. They may not believe me when I say I hear, no feel, "you", but if they would open their hearts, no minds, to true beauty I believe that they would, too, feel. Now I mean feel as in the most unbridled sense the senses can bare.
"Your" voice pangs on the strings of my heart's neck, the curvature of my being. It, "your" voice, still plays fluently in the drums of my ears; like a beautiful symphony "your" ways of speech. "Your" patterns they flow like notes on a staph. I will never know another human who can, through speech, evoke such emotion from I as "you".
I would give everything I owned to hear "your" voice play for hours, days, months, years; until "your" voice grew outdated and changed with the seasons. However, "your" voice will never grow outdated or change to me. It, "your" voice, will remain as beautiful as it was in its prime in my ears. Just to hear "your" chords play my name once more I would give it all. My heart longs to feel "you" again.

On a walk in the middle of spring.
All the bees on cali orange blossoms. The birds sing  
The difgerent smell of food as i go downtown
Live music somwhere in the distance echoing all around. Through the old neighborhoods i always  roam.
I feel at home.
Passing houses. Cars pass.  Incenese nag champa. ciggs. **** and fresh cut grass.
Seeing familiar people out and about.
Fresh air. Free. No lock down. No care. Even the dogs runnin up on me barkin is all good. Warm night Cool breeze through my neighborhood

I Love the beginning of spring
Dormant soils resurrected
From winters nourishing
A light breeze blowing
Through infant leaves
A smell so fresh
You are intoxicated
By its offering

I love the beginning of spring
Mother Nature’s power on full display
Being awaken by the melody of birds
At the break of day
The smiles on faces
As they pick up their paces
Energized by the suns ray

I’m ready for spring to come my way