There is not enough of you to piece together a fantasy. My eyes set away for too long and all I caught was a glimpse. The rest is left to my imagination. I’ve spun a seed and for now, I, the water of creation, will fertilize you until you’re brought to life.
And as months pass, I note that time has done you well. You’ve matured into a silhouette, so when my thoughts are absent, you may glide across. And my head starts spinning with new impressions. You confide your ideas of what our journey could be and I dote on them- our little secret. I wonder of a date when those devoting words will truly exist between us.
I am blind to your colors, but sound keeps telling me to run. Heat is sparking your ember, my pitterpatters to your thunder. I am hesitant, but certain. And I escape past suitors to the safe place we’ve created.
Exhaustion is entangling me, searching for you is unyielding. But sound finally whispers the sweet words that you’ve been welded into the mountains. Then sight returns and I look for relief. Cavities form and sculpt until you’re a mere man.
A simple exhibit, you tell me stories of how you melted cold heavens in rich desires of a visit. But the thought that we will part once again always sticks. And when I utter the question- the wind embraces me and departure arrives.
I suppose the sky suits you best after all.