are boutiques of quail feathers,
an ice frosted cupcake,
a bracelet with your letter on it,
a handful of acorns,
a bucket of blackberries,
a casket full of rosehip,
my footprints across the path to our front door
my breath captured in glass of the bathroom mirror,
the forest of my expression on the bookshelf,
my accented voice in the wooden staircase,
the artwork of my moisturised hands on the cooper door handle,
my smile reflected in the bottom of your coffee cup
my silhouette not reflected in the wall of the lamp but in the dark pits of your eyes
my laughter and pleasure engulfed by our own,
my outer glow in which your eyes paint it in your mind,
my inner glow you caress with your own,
the fabric of the cotton candy of my mind,
a dose of my creative vitamins you took,
married to my words you said,
I am a deer that roams the meadow fields
and I gift you with the knowledge of my trips,
a coat of rain I wear which only you can brush off
my heart hung in the gallery of your own anatomy,
and yours polished and displayed in my own apothecary,
The sheet of leaves you throw over us
And the blanket of night covers us night into night
While the sun pulls the curtains open, pulls our blanket of and tickles us with her rays
And in treasure box we put our every day of ours which is patched with love
And we have the trophy of spending every day together.
There is no better thing than that amongst the undiscovered crooks of the world.
By Elena Kokonova.
One of my favourite poems. I LOVE IT I hope you do to. Many thanks for reading.