I hear your gentle breathing
The rise and fall of your chest...

It’s too simplistic
Too primitive...

Paint me a tapestry
Colors richer than the red wine, the fresh fruit...

Auburn hair strewn over lined, wrinkled paper
Mascara pollutes her tears, falling downward...

It smells of sweet, fresh grass
Crinkles and whines as our bodies crush each blade...

The swing, the backyard, made out of rope and wood
Tied to that old gnarled maple crooked as can be...

Every moment that passes seems not worthy of my...
Precious time...