F U R I O U S F E E L I N G S

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[mama, i’m in rags she says, ‘pack your bags.’

My Love, these words, like wind in leaves, they crowd,
But find no rest, no bough where they can sing.
In you, a soul on mountains born and proud,
My voice takes flight, on silken whispers cling.

This book, a map where paths of two souls bend,
Where echoes of our laughter softly stray.
Though dawn may break, my absence won’t transcend,
Each line will bear the ghost of me all day.

The lamp, a lone eye dimmed in twilight’s hold,
Shall hum a tune of longing, bittersweet.
The bed, where whispered secrets once were told,
Will sigh, a lullaby for dreams we meet.

Don’t question why these verses seek the stream,
The tulip’s fire, the whispering of stone.
I wove my love through every sunlit beam,
Made echoes of my heart in fields unknown.

For in each star, your name a whispered prayer,
Across the night my fragrance lightly steals.
And when they turn these pages, unaware,
They’ll find your face, where every sentence heals.

Forget the world, its murmurs light and brief,
Their fleeting praise a rustle in the leaves.
Your greatness, Love, with mine finds sweet relief,
A hidden wellspring, where the spirit weaves.

The world, a path half-shadowed, cold and grim,
Without your eyes, a barren winter spread.
But in our souls, a song of fire we hymn,
A summer bloom, against the frost, instead.

So let these rhymes, like frosted branches meet,
A bridge of whispers, strong and clear and true.
For on this ridge, where sun and shadow greet,
Our love shall bloom, forever born anew.

12|21|2023