I'm Brimming

I hope your soul feels a squeeze from mine
any morning you wake and squint at the light.
When you wake - from the tip of your toes to your head
and begin the slow, lumbering rise from your bed,

know this: the reason it all goes unkissed
is that I am not there with my early-bird lips;
I am very far off with my strong set of hips,
and my fingers, which ache to retrace all your ribs.

If you leave without breakfast, or unsatisfied,
it is only the miles that stretch under the sky;
if your ears miss my timbre and singing and talk,
and it's tough to recall as you leave for your walk,

know that though strangers and their ignorant eyes
might miss you, mistake you for scenery; I
would walk the whole way with my head to your side,
drinking your sight like a peasant would wine.