You

When I find solitude,

cutting night, like the Moon

drenches the virginal spring,

in its eternal thirst

for consummation - 

I find the whitely seas

moaning at the shore:

You.

These words I pen,

little by little

playing truant with lips,

whisper your essence:

The pen quivers,

The ink spills,

its embarrassment a prelude

to what it conceals:

You.

The wind rests at your feet;

Climbs down your hair.

The roses your eyes conceal,

bleed the skies red.

The universe pulled,

by the gravity of your self.

If now:

The steel of love,

melts down your being;

Your heart yields to spring,

You will find - 

The skies, the crystal moon,

the teary winds, Earth,

My world, is made of - 

You.