You are the love
I find in simple things:
the tea bag swimming in a pond of hot water,
chocolate on ice cream
an almond covered with a sugar crust,
red wine sizzling in a hot pan
a half-ripe strawberry in spring
and an overripe orange at the Christmas table
the smell of cinnamon sprinkled on a steaming apple.
You are the love
I find in spring,
in a white tulip carefully raising its head from the ground
the pigeon taking a bath in a still too cold pond.
You are the smell of rhubarb and strawberries
the first lavender blossoms
and their paler companions on rosemary and thyme.
You are the cold wind howling between trees still bare
and the rain touching overheated ground,
the first smell of summer.
You are the mornings when the sun reflects in the high-rise tower
and the evenings still crisp and clean.
You are the taste of blackberry and wine
the Thames glittering in sunlight
and my feet beneath the water while a goose swims by,
looking at the strange creature in the stream.
You are the breath of hot air on salt-coated stone,
on mussel shells and sand,
on my overheated skin.
You are book pages rustling in the wind
and tender words on yellowed paper.
You are the love
I find in changing seasons,
in blood-red leaves dancing in an autumn storm
and snow flakes under cloudy skies
in ice crystals growing on bare branches
and a roaring fire to warm my feet
after a walk on damp winter soil.
And just like the seasons
you change your colours
and the smell of your skin.
I breathe it in.
You are the love
I find in simple things.