quicksilver threads

Slowly,
your words unravelled
twisting around the stem of a vine
to finally arrive at this place
where sound converged with the light in your eyes.
The sun stopped and held time for just a moment as
silence gazed at its reflection in a window.
Emotion composed the summer air
while puddles from the past ran through your soul.
Quicksilver threads of white clouds chased the rain
and collapsed into infinity.
The afternoon became dusk as you talked of long held dreams
and poets whose words consumed your soul.
I sat upon star shaped leaves and listened to the sound your voice made as the first moon appeared in an aqua sky.
I heard the words like a favorite melody played over and over again
love never tiring of its repetition,
moments never expiring into enchantment.
A swallow flew embracing the moon and the sun as they each held their breath;
vines of aqua light and orange clouds threading their way to your heart.
Then your words took flight and followed the swallow;
a summer vine trailing through my fingers as the wind
captured the moon;
each moment an unconditional love;
each moment a spacing in a sentence.