LAVENDER

Kiss me with warm latte lips,

wordless riddles with a caramel tongue

and light accent of sea salt,

touch of honey a slow flow

from cheek to shoulder.

Opening eyes to crafted gray clouds

clashing with blue,

we meet the crisp air and Nordic landscape,

we pick lavender and we breathe,

we're alone together in windswept wilderness.

Upon return we make an addition to the

rustic wooden rack of spices and herbs,

the fire is rekindled in the cottage;

I turn away from rising embers to again

entreat of your soothing nectar,

and I behold you in nothing at all,

nothing but delightful purple specks

of our harvested lavender.