Receiving your spectrum.

You write me a prelude-
a stroke of sailing hands
that paint the lonely lake
with scripture of
horizon.
Wait no more,
for your first cast....
all is still-
preborn in meditation
and holding onto the
aquatic garden.
Soon, you'll fly to me
across the verses
that take our breath-
and give sunlight
an incentive to illuminate.
Watch our beloved
amber, bronze, and chestnut
as their breasts rise
to this day made possible
by admiration.