you are the words I

hope to speak in this

storm you are the fire

when the snowstorm

denies me warmth you are

the knife when I have

to defend in the dark

alley you are this sunshine

when I have drowned in

soil you are the whispered

worshipping after years in exile

you are the blueberry

coffee cake after years of

no dessert or breakfast

your energy is like no

other as if I never had

Ice cream or chocolate before

you are the adoration

of strictly nice souls

of warm fuzzies

you are as if

happy dog faces

could purr