Def Poetry #19

I like the pace of the snowflakes,

falling in place on my mouth to taste your lips-

and each crystallized pattern, your hand,

as they graze my face

and the cold melts away

my thoughts start to race

the companions agree with my motive,

and this note is more than the words wrote-

its the way I feel as you press

your cheek to mine-

and when I look you in the eyes

and see past the past lives

that I've looked at to find

this

If I could hold this place in time forever

I would-

for feeling this infinite is to fleeting for whenever

and if I were more clever

I'd find a more connotative means to write this letter

but my pen is running low on ink

and I think I feel the sands of

sleep beginning to sink into the

lids of my eyes-

and the corners feel the solid

but they also feel warmer

for another day, holds another chance

to hold her.

and the dreams of tonight

promise sweet flight to the arms

of the sunrise and the breaking

sight of the sky and the light.

drab or dreary clouds are not proud enough

to stab and weary or shroud the feelings of this time-

and the weather merely separates

the short walk to your place and my place

in your arms and yours in mine.

redundantly apparent I feel further than fine.

I don't know how else to convey

the way I feel when our fingers intertwine.