...Love -A Place Where East Meets West-

My eyes are blue,
The color of ice affixed to iron.
Your eyes are ebony,
Stars shaken from the night.  

My hair is dun,
Tufts of Grecian witch-hazel.
Your hair is Burnt harp strings,
Somnial notes tangled round your brow

My skin is the color of tanned oak,
Taxidermied to kingdom a giant.
Your skin is pearlescent,
Pale air embroidered unto sea foam.

My smile is brazen,
A draft crack in the wood.
Your smile is soft,
A tear with its brevity of meaning.

My words are brash,
In command of nature's wild tones.
Your words are coalescent,
You are never without yourself.

My arms are open to all who come,
There is no judgment in how I love.
Your arms have never a doubt in their embrace,
The significance of such never lost to you.

My voice lines prose and verse,
Jesus of what is to be.
You voice is made of fives and sevens,
Buddha to a potted phrase.


You are the elegance of the east,
And I am the ambition of the west.
But if I travel west does it not meet the east?
And if you travel east could you not kiss the west?
For why else would our world be round,  if not to show us,
That never there was a difference that left us without…