If words were made of fabric,
yours would be of the softest velvet
wrapped gently ‘round my shoulders.


If sounds were dripping liquid,
your voice would be of the sweetest wine
poured liberally in my chalice.


If air were scores of music,
your breath would be the richest symphony
played late into my summer nights.


Words & sounds fill the air
like the softest velvet,
the sweetest wine,
the richest symphony.