By: Ben Bielert
You are a whisper in the middle of the night,
a quarrel of sparrows taking flight,
Orion’s belt twinkling in autumn skies,
and the sun in the morning ever to rise.
You’re a soft caress on electric skin,
the answer to my knock letting me in,
swimming in a lake in summer after dark,
tracing the shape of a hidden birthmark.
You’re the passage to my favourite book,
all that can be said with just one look,
the sweetest taste of a gentle spring rain,
the sweetness of pleasure, worth any pain.
You are the feeling at the start of a trip,
excitement spreading from belly to fingertip,
the soft crunch of freshly fallen winter snow,
the start of a new dawn and a rooster’s crow.
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