Spanish Speaking Lips

My hands drip when you're firm touch comes to them,

and the invading silence of candles

is to much for me to handle

on this night,

of storms,

and labor pains.

I feel in this moment,

as though I've given birth to you.

To powerfully sweet

to have been created in this world.

I want to trace my fingers

along the rainbow edges of you're Spanish speaking lips

and lap up every syllable of excitement from you're tongue,

to understand you're side of this action

this event,

that's flung us together.

Myself a gypsy,

to you're vagabond.

Was it my carpet bag of tricks that reeled you in

or was it the flaxen stone walls divided,

that no longer divide us.

I've spent seventeen blistering winters

away from the light and heat of the world

swallowed up by waterless ports of ivy

until you,

Spanish speaking lips came to me.