I thought I saw your face in a milky concauction. Never had missed, or longed for a voice, never had kissed, or felt passion in a single touch:
A gentle snow that holds its breath for the soft crunch of a footstep.
A heart stained with happiness, and painted in your image.
A soul floating in a garden, tending the passion that emit these eyes.
Forget the world, my meaning is in your face. My hunger for life grows in your embrace.
I thought I saw your face in a milky concauction.
but it was just a reflection in tea, and nothing more