I walk through all your poems as I gasp for air.
I’m much aware this is the voyage of my life
and corridors of spoken green surround me going there.
I feel the whispers that you blow over my face as balm,
soft vales of pinkish lace embracing me.
You speak and smile in verse, you talk of love.
Then such romantic issues float beside us as we walk
to be the buoys for every mile we go across this sea,
so indigo and longing that it makes me weak.
This way I don’t know who you are at all. I seek
the meaning of the whispers that you blow over my face.
All yours I walk through poems and I gasp for air.