When You Speak

I have collected memories of us on each encounter, 

In the smell of wild roses that line the side of a 

comely, cracked, and gray concrete sidewalk, 

Interchanging never-ending stories that connect our gaze. 

They are wildflowers 

That spread out under bluebird skies,

Hands that interlock naturally 

As we narrate the nourishments that make our heartbeats synchronize.  

You speak with a serene voice, 

Manifesting the measure of your love. 

Your words are musical and slow, undulating on gentle breezes, 

Refusing to coincide with colourless constitutions. 

With you I am young, 

I yearn for tomorrows that draw strength from our yesterdays. 

I trace the curvature of your mouth with my eyes,

You are a home in the wild, formed with ears that perceive. 

Words depart gently from your soft pink lips,

A full moon pulling my attention like the tide.

Your tongue is amiable, pleasant, sweet, 

Conversing with warm connotations. 

You are hazelnut, and honey, and a homemade harmony.

We capture our memories 

In another planted garden, 

A wildflower kiss, held by you under baby blue skies.