Who Dwell in My Life

You are the fire that does not scorch but colors the night,

a blaze of amber and lilac that brushes the sky’s cheek.

In your flames I see the phoenix of my own becoming

a rebirth each time your eyes meet mine, a phoenix‑kiss

that turns ordinary breath into incense,

and the world, for a heartbeat, is a cathedral of sparks.

You are the wind that writes verses upon the meadow of my thoughts,

an abstract brushstroke of breezes that taste of citrus and rain.

When you whisper, the clouds part, spilling lavender incense,

and I hear the symphony of a thousand unseen violins

each note a promise, each pause a sacred space where I breathe

the perfume of your laughter, bright as sunrise on dew.