My words are the white caps of rapids,
blasting over rocks, slipping into eddies,
clinging to your words
rushing to the river's edge,
strong and resolute,
cascading recklessly over waterfalls.

I slip toward ocean's edge,
your words a dam,
I fight against the current
trembling on the river bottom,
my words urge me upward onto land
where I slide in the mud
as if I was the belly of a snake,
sneaking closer to your words,
quaking like a sparrow on a branch.

I watch you lift into an ocean spray
of swirling chaos,
my words transform into evening mist
chasing your jagged flight,
your wings barely visible in the moon's light.

Your words flame in a Phoenix,
fiery in the powerful lonely dawn.
My words vanish in near heartbreak,
like the cold of morning fog,
hovers over a lake,
and I breathe "I'm sorry,"
in the shape of a kiss,
your words open like petals
of a rose
and you breathe, "Forgiven,"
in the shape of a heart.


--Aurelio

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