Breathe

I can breathe the air of winter as my fingers cool.


I can breathe the air of spring with all those flowers and allergies.

I can exhale the air of autumn when the ground prepares for falling leaves.

I can exhale the air of summer when it is full of heat.



But, I have yet to breathe your air as you exhale.

I have yet to kiss those lips, fragile and timid.

I have yet to touch your fingers and hear you whisper my name.



If I believe the seasons of God's creation

I know I never will.