Anaϊs

Dear Anaϊs,

Forgive me the concentrated attention, but you are worthy, a focal point deserved. You sing sweetly, magically, with a direction of your own. It wounds me. Your feet in fresh snow, your body a letter. My words, infused with love, the passionate listener, floored. People don't bleed their love. Often enough. I want to tell you. It is beautiful. You are. You are so much. The voice, the way it moves like a snake, waltzes me off into the night. Your voice, my ears, making love. At moments lovers. Always in love. The glory of your sweetness. I am an adult filled, full of childlike wonder. Something in your voice. Sparkling. Jewels and riches in a sea of gloom.

You sow the seeds. In a garden like I've not seen before. I've never seen the like of this. These plants, these flowers and this life. It looks like nothing else. You grow it out of nothing. It comes from within, from your heart, born from your womb. With grace, with symbols of souls, attached poems to poles. Watch it all grow. All from you. All because of you. You tend to these ghosts with care. I want to sit and watch, every shoot, every growth, every wonder and spell that fills this space. Thanks for taking your time, to build a world in a garden, to fill it with such fruits, to help me know such beauty. For all of it, and what will follow,

With Love,

Dominic