I see

an artful curve

in the softness of the line

of your eyelid that

I touch

with the pad of

my little finger, wiping away

the tearful drop that

I taste

the sweet salt of

on your cheek, as my tongue

seeks your mouth and

I smell

the minted scent

that lingers on your lips

that speak the words

I hear

soft in my ear

as you whisper of lands

that never can

I see.