You appeared to me,
During a late morning,
Of the thirty-fifth summer.
The birds circled,
Endless skies of blue.
You sat and drank,
Drained caffeine from its holder,
As you examined yesterday's drama.
I couldn't help but notice,
The way your lips,
Pursed together,
To chase away the pain,
Before each sip.
You looked through colors of green,
That revealed the haven,
Where angels retreat.
I couldn't retrieve my gaze,
So instead I invited your thoughts.
Your soul became,
Rooted in my dreams,
Just as gentleness,
Emerged from your touch.
As long as my veins,
Flow the liquid of life,
Shall that morning of summer exist.
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