There,
where you are
I can see me
being shown
around by you
native trees and path
ways you cross
while I notice
the shade of the sky
unable to grasp
the name
the word
the color
or any delicate phrase
to turn
to say
the way the crisp air
nibbles on my nose
before piercing my ear
lobes with sugar frosted
sentiments thick with lust
lingering over us
like clouds
getting there
some time
where ever
There
is.
Image by Carl Moll, watercolor c. 1901-1902, Stroll in the gardens of Votivkirche, Vienna [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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