An apple and a book lie upon the table and it is you.

It is you who hides in the tranquility of the air

And in the warmth of the coffee that transfers from

Hands to heart, the caffeine adding sparkle to eyes

That focus on the beauty in everything, in me,

You who splits the croissant and holds out my

Half and half of me wonders if you know how much I love

The way you look at me and half of half wonders

If I could ever look at you the same way and the

Rest wonders if it really is impossible to fold paper

More than seven times. It is you, you who flashes a milky smile

As you brush your finger through the crumbs, a dance

With the fragile infinite, a gallery for those who see

Simplicity in motion. You, you who pushes your chair in and

Grazes my lips, who shows me the cosmos when I gasp

For air, who leaves me with an apple and a book and

A reluctance to leave.