=jax cerulean=

I trace your footsteps in pastel blue,
the colour of today’s sky, paint arcs
across borders. mine coalesce into a puddle
of ever-darkening teal, on the spot
where we first met. we dreamt of

a lake outlined by the lasting green of spruces,
the farmhouse, a dark shade of myrtle, standing
in a clearing near calm shores,
a pony’s whinny heard in the distance, all
hidden under winter’s pristine cloak. soon

it will be springtime, summertime — time to
share tales short and tall, together and
apart. my offering of simple vanilla pales
against the exotic overtones of your phrases:
anise, nutmeg, cinnamon, saffron. surely

I would be able to taste them in your words, your
eloquent gestures. so forgive me if tears fall on
my clasped hands, if your face is the furthest
thing I can bear to look at, if I look away. until
we find ourselves, here, cerulean, whole.