It’s the way sometimes
I want to inhale you
like the scent of warm sidewalks
steaming after rain, like
April lilacs full-globed
and yearning for the bees.
It’s the way I want
to linger on the landscape
of your fingers, palm,
throbbing pulse.
I want to synchronize
myself with you,
breathe with the swell
of your lungs, lulled
by your rhythms,
hypnotic as ocean waves;
to surface from the depths
of dreams to find you,
in blue shallow morning,
waking.