The way she laughs is
Aphrodite,
reincarnated beauty.
Her cheekbones rise and fall
in sync with her chest.

Delicate features,
aging,
but fair forever,
I’ll love her
as long as I
am able to breathe.

She tells me to speak,
and I feel the words tumble,
slowly, softly,
from the roof of my mouth down
to the tip of my tongue,
incoherent to most,
but she nods,
because she understands.

She smiles
and I do too,
because she brings me June in December,
and melts the snow,
leaving me warm
in my bones.

She loved me when
I was wandering,
lost in a maze,
of unexplored thoughts,
and she gave me
a hand to hold,
to make me feel safe,
but never steered me
one way or another
to fulfill her own agenda,
as others did,
only kept me warm,
requesting nothing as payment,
only kind eyes,
and early morning bed head.

Now that I am older,
now that I am no longer wandering so much,
now that I have somewhat found
what I have been looking for,
she stays with me
just the same,
watching over me,
like smoky breath in winter,
giving me guidance
when I fall.

She tells me stories,
transporting me
to eras forgotten
and memories unspoken,
and I can hear her childhood self
saving me
from falling off
a skyscraper,
her favorite word.

She likes travel,
maps,
geography,
cultures.
She is everyone and no one
at the same time,
but most importantly,
she is someone
for whom
my soul beams
and with whom
it dances.

I want to tell her
how grateful I am,
but when I do,
I never have the words.

They leave my mouth unfinished,
unrefined,
but still she shows me
her summer smile.