So often I speak about your lips,
And your dimpled places,
So often I run out of words,
And my pen is left choking.
So often I walk through,
The gardens in my fantasies,
So often there’s a flower blooming of you,
And my can is left watering.
So often I dream dreams,
Mostly of you,
So often, you are limned in the linings of my dream catcher,
And my dream is left wandering.
So often I’m ascended into the higher realms,
The power of the presence of your touch,
So often I meet my maker,
And my prayer is left answered.
– Smyekh David-West.