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.