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By Sam Yau

A circle of lime trees

outstretch their branches for us

to lie beneath their canopy.

The leaves rustle in the gentle breeze,

shimmer in the morning sun.

Above the foliage, clouds swirl-waltz

against the satiny blue sky, celebrating

the melding of two kindred spirits.

Song thrushes fly-dance above us, chirping:

There is a place for us, us alone.

You lay your hand on mine

while we lie on the green grass.

A fireball stoked by our hearts

twirls between our palms.

We are floating up, up and away.

The fire you ignited in my soul

is burning bright,

spreading out of control.

I am infused with you.

I am drunk in our co-vibrations.

Your hand has never left.

Maybe it never will.


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