Your skin glows like the strawberry,
blossoms lacey as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your flute voice
and leaps like a bunny at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great cardinal wing.
I am comforted by your Isis Wrap
that I carry into the twilight of knitting needle beams
and hold next to my hands.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of wine.
As my smile falls from my shawl,
it reminds me of your yarn.
In the quiet, I listen for the last tweet of the day.
My heated eyes leap to my lace.
I wait in the moonlight for your secret yarn-over
so that we may knit as one, eyes to eyes,
in search of the magnificient merlot
and mystical ribbing of love.