Language of Breath

Your breath speaks to me

like gentle wind across hot sands.

The song of the bird.

The hum of a bee.

In a season like this,

warm breath for my neck.

It is all I have

in the world...

A tune I cannot forget

makes me want

to plant your voice.

Why must it be 

my turn to leave your lips?

An old woodstove crackles

to warm our hands. 

Reviews

[retreating ghost]

This piece is a breath of fresh air . I love the first stanza .Nice poem :)