I lay words on paper, asking the sky to water your steps and weave you into the flowers. I long to reap you in the west of the days as I tread the crooked paths of the present, hoping your love will straighten me tomorrow.

I rise early so my love may kiss you before the wind, and I sleep late to rendezvous with your dreams.

And when you come—come. Let your soul pour into mine, so I may truly live.

When you come—come.

Feel at home in me… ❤

©️ Beatriz Esmer