When Spring comes forth in a whirl of green,
the world is in awe of this ethereal dance –
the magic, like that of a husband
giving a loving kiss to his wife.
Sprouts and leaves and flowers burst into bloom,
but nothing is softer than the heat from your skin.
All I can do is stay a worshiper of light
half asleep in the afternoon sun.
You’re an evergreen Spring day every morning,
spreading sunlight from your side of the pillow,
that blossoming branches beneath my skin
wants to reach out and touch.
What can I do but grow with love
when Spring mornings blossom in my bed
and you, tangled with me,
make me bloom, a happy flower.