Unrequited

I am in love with the way
Ancient words
Still have the power to curl
Around my tongue, and sleep in my mind,
Enjoying such harmonious slumber.
I caress the pages upon which they are written
With such reverence
And joy.

I am in love with the way a rose's petals
Embrace the bud,
Unfurling slowly over time
To reveal the snowy centre.
I inhale the sweet scent,
The dewy delight at its
Heart.

I am in love with a brush of skin,
And the perfectly crafted arrangements
Of features
So perfect they must have been carved
By some kind of divinity.
Iridescent eyes revealing
Iridescent souls are so
Intoxicating to me.

I am in love with the fall of summer rain,
And the slow, burning death of autumn,
And the misted twilight of winter.
The colours, so sublime, are entwined
Amongst the days
In which life lives.

I am caught breathless by beauty
In all things,
And all people,
And this love scents my tears,
And secretes my smiles.

And I think that perhaps,
I am in love with beautiful things,
Because I have none of my own
To savour
Or to keep.