it starts

it starts

from the moment

your toes cool on the morning floor

that mist which,

enveloping you,

becomes the clouds in my dreams

it floats

from your feet

to your head following the map of your soul

that aroma which

lingering in the stars

twinkles along a path to heaven

it jumps

from each strand

of waterfall flowing over your face

a fragrance

painting colors of summer

like Picasso blotting the shapes I can’t explain

it moves

from hair to hand

while lips pucker and meet their opposite

the sweetness

leaving remnants of hope

on dew covered blossoms in my mind

it breathes

from somewhere unseen

filling watery lungs with lilac kisses

that perfume

made to drown

with happiness, a lonely open heart