For my girl who likes to dream of a house by the sea

Listen to the breeze, 
The dry branches scraping our kitchen window, 
Coyly, like the cat scratching the leg of the couch, 
Or the sound of little racoon paws on the back porch.
It is particularly windy this afternoon, I meant to mention
With my hands dipped
Into soapy water, 
And you holding me from behind, 
Laying kisses on my nape,
(Those lips I'd know as mine if I were blind)
But the tide had just risen, 
The white foam splashed the rocky shore, 
And I could almost hear waves fizzle like champagne
As they slid back into the ocean, sucked like magnets into the deep
     So out of respect I let them speak. 

The house smells of sea salt, cinnamon, 
And cookies that I let burn slightly in the oven. 
Forgive me; 
You looked so peaceful going through your photographs, 
Crouched on the wooden floor, arranging prints like puzzle pieces, 
A dim spear of light piercing you softly, a sun shooting its last arrow 
On this cold and cloudy day, 
That I forgot time existed, 
And resisted to tell you it was a quarter past the hour. 

The cork just popped, and the can just cracked open, 
And we sit by the chimney watching logs turn into flames. 
The sparks became dancers in your irises, I noticed, 
Like in tribal ceremonies; 
Your look is concentrated, yet serene, 
And I can't get myself to intervene and ask what you're thinking, 
And if colors look brighter 
With eyes ablaze. 
I know that I will love you always, I meant to mention, 
But a melon moon just started growing in the sky, 
Still a shadowy trace, and the night started to seep, 
     So out of respect I let them speak. 
LBCH