If love and romance
could become
the same breathing thing,
let them bring forth
the courage
to find their way
to my path,
like trees
leaning toward rivers,
like roots
remembering water.
If alliteration
could find its way
through the body,
let its syllables
arrive softly,
sweet, slow,
silken, sacred,
until language itself
begins to feel
like sensuality.
If dancing
could feel this good,
Marigolds would bloom
in my backyard
all year long,
and summer
would forget
How to leave.
If the seaside
could glow
in the midnight hour,
let it capture
the sparkle
in my eyes
when love
finally recognizes me
without hesitation.
Let pain dissipate.
Let tenderness
Enter the room
with clean hands.
Let the heart
and soul
be soothed
by something honest,
something warm,
something brave enough
to stay.
Nothing can grasp
this moment in time.
Not the night.
Not the distance.
Not the silence
that once tried
to interrupt
what was becoming.
It feels
like evenings
beneath the Eiffel Tower,
like laughter
rising into Paris air,
like two spirits
finding each other
beneath a sky
that already knew.
So I will see you tonight,
where the water glows,
where the marigolds listen,
where the trees bow gently
toward the river,
and where the moon
does not simply kiss me,
It writes your name
in silver
across my skin,
pulls the tide
toward my heart,
and leaves me standing
beneath the midnight sky,
not waiting for love,
but wrapped inside
the beautiful evidence
that it has already arrived—
© 2026 Sherley Delia. All rights reserved.
