Our journey around the world
And towards each other
Is a non-stop sentence,
Spontaneous and indifferent to punctuation,
Lots of love, lots of layers,
Your everyday gestures are always
My new paragraphs made of letters,
Every minute with you is
A painting –
I like to believe what I’m seeing! –
– endearing and thus necessary for me to lament.
I’ve been interested in how different
You think – is it thinking in phrases,
in sound-waves or in silhouettes?
You always have images ready
As quickly as you pick up a brush,
A microphone or a pencil.
I’m curious why, and how, I’m moved
By the rhythm of your steps, rough and tender,
When you come home, I wonder
Where we go, I don’t know,
But we are on our way –