When I think of you
my mind is drawn to pretty things—
crystal water flowing through a marble basin,
the scent of jasmine in a night garden
with rows of golden lanterns lighting
a pathway through the trees. I think of a white palace
filled with silken luxury and golden decadence.
When I hear your voice
I suddenly remember pretty memories—
The time we were in Italy together,
basking in a white light on the beach,
listening to the turquoise Mediterranean
splash up on our feet. I remember the echoes
in Pontius Pilate's cave, or my heels clacking
along the streets of Rome in the heat of May.
When I leave you
after hours, or days, or months
of being together without pause
I am inspired to write pretty words—
words like love, words like want and need,
words that mean I miss you. If I am apart from you
I cannot hold back from writing pretty words
and shaping them into pretty poems
in which I reminisce. Can you see
that you are the water and I am the jasmine,
that our love is the palace, and our love is rich?
Can you see that I carve a poem from pretty words
meant to woo you, meant to prove my feelings?