Falling softly into a bed of soft blue shadows.
And I breathe in your exhale,
Under yellow bulbed lights,
As they spread warm illumination,
On our summer-tanned shoulders,
And we swim in their glory,
As we swim in each other.
And I’m lost,
I’m so lost,
To everything else.
Because your presence is loud—
Though your skin is soft—
And I can’t hear anything else.
And I breathe in the sweet candy flavor of summer into my little pink lungs,
And I exhale you with each breath.
I open my eyes and I see your glory,
And it’s so heavy around me that it weighs down my heart beat to a slow rumble in my chest,
But it’s so light that I feel like I am dancing in water.
So tell me,
Tell what you are.
Tell me through the language of children’s laughter,
And the husky edge to a grey haired woman’s voice.
Through hard summer rain,
Saturated with the colors of blue and green,
Saturated with the colors of you and me.
Through the sheets of our marriage bed,
Through the covenant that we made instead,
Of running to broken cisterns and trying to get clean.
Until it’s running through my veins,
Until it becomes my organs,
Until it is all that I am.