You are the bucket collecting falling rain
sitting just outside my window.
You are the tender speck of sunlight
weaving through gently shifting leaves,
dancing on the forest floor at the back door of my heart.
Every tree feels your caressing touch,
every flower tastes your silky scent,
because you are the thought behind
every wistful summer breeze.

I wade carefully into your drifting waters
because you are the stretching ocean,
your breath each breaking wave.
You are every passing cloud,
every weathered grain of sand,
every expanse greater than myself.

You became the air inside my lungs,
and I breathed as deeply as I could
even though I surely knew
you could never stay for good.

We were suspended between
perfect chaos and haunting steadiness;
your hands as stable as swaying ships
until they found their harbor within my own.
And your lips still hold the taste of the last name
you let them whisper, oh how I pray that it was mine.
For I still need your quivering fingers,
I still need your trembling lips,
I still need your shaky breathing,
and all the beats your heart has skipped.