The outline of her colour image creates a spectrum in my belly
Its invisible blues and purples and beyond enwrap my heart in light
And then vanishes like a dream into heavy clouds
Leaving behind memories that are revealed in the stillness of the night
Or they produce a memory of her voice, her speech and words
As if a visiting nightingale nestling on my bosom had begun singing
But still, I’m saturated in the light particles of this experience
I walk in a colourful blizzard of her influences
And I try to put them together again into a real woman
That collapses like a house of raindrops
And her moods are as pleasant as her round figure
They rise and fall like hills in the progress of light into the dark
Where I lose myself in the exploration of her being
both the fire and the rain of her emotions are a healing to my soul
