You think
I'm absent?
Silent,
I fly by,
Touching your hair
Then
In a minute
Melting.
Come to the study,
Here,
My dear,
I'm dwelt in,
Writing to you,
Sweet apple of my eye.

A gift of inspiration,
On your desk,
There lies the page,
A lately written poem.
Look into it,
And you will see the proem
Of my commitment,
Warm and chivalresque.
Come to the kitchen.
Thirsty?
Take a glass
And you will find me
On the very bottom,
Moving so gladly
To the ripened autumn
Of your beloved lips,
My tender lass.

You take a sip of me
And just allow -
Of any other things -
To be your absinth.
So why d'you say
Of me that I am absent,
If you're absorbing me?
You do it now.

I'm snow?
No,
Ice with hard belief in dreams,
A brother of the ice in any freezer.
Your silver fork
Picks on me,
A sweet teaser
Ready to melt,
Becoming your white cream.

My dream caresses you
To feel and know,
Adoring verses forming a mosaic...
Forget about routine,
Mundane,
Prosaic...
Though sad
I'm glad
To be your whisp'ring snow.

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