Recurring Imagery

It is no miracle that you taste like rain

It is a miracle how you carry the scents of a lost train of thought

Or a tune from some forgotten notebook

How your fingers arouse eons of dormant flowers sleeping

Untouched in untended gardens.

How you are singularly beautiful

Like parallel sunbeams carrying volatile dust

And like the random little flower surprises in ruined forts.

How you make broken bits of dreams gather themselves

And become cumulus clouds bursting with moisture.

With you, love is as easy as the heady momentum

In a childhood swing.

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