To walk amongst the wood with fingers entwined
on a Northwestern eve in early June;
watch the umber in your eyes as they shine
with the sunlight that softly transudes through.
To bury our toes in warm Grecian sands
while your curls tickle a crescent moon breast;
nothing but laughter and love in our hands
as twilight rolls in waves from the west.
To witness artic circle endless days,
the snow fall in the phosphorescent sun,
and the selfish frost bites my tongue away
so the rustling fir trees will speak my lust.
For without you these worlds would cease to be,
simply my own empty eternity.