INK-STAINED SOUL

The warmth of your embrace
Into which I can melt,
Like the red of sunset
Bleeding into the gold,
The song of the stars
Blending with the midnight quiet,
Does it need translation, my love?

The way my head touches your heart
When I lean into you,
The perfect height to listen
To your throbbing symphony,
And for your lips to ride my brows,
Drink the dew in my eyes,
Does it need translation, my love?

The fire of your kiss
That sets me ablaze,
The tenderness of your touch-
Honey running down my skin;
The sweet nothings you whisper in my ears
While you braid my hair with stars
Plucked from the sky,
And drench me in your love's endless rain;
The pain when we pine
For each other across the miles,
The spring in our souls
When together we are,
Do they need translation, my love?

The way your fingers entwine mine,
And pass on the dreams
From your blood to mine,
The way our eyes seek each other
Amid thronging thousands,
And we come to rest
In our love's green pasture
After weary wanderings;
The way you weave
Of the finest texture,
A blanket of love that warms me
Even in the deepest chill,
Do they need translation, my love?