You are my heart, mi corazon. Wherever I am, you are within me.
You are my dream. My reverie this afternoon, a human touch at midnight.
You are my soul, my anima, my muse, and I know from before I was born until after I die that wherever I go you lead me.
And yet, you’re you. I know that, too.
You have your own heart, dream, and soul I can only hope to enter.
Can only hope that one day soon, as summer dies and fall comes on, maybe Tuesday or Saturday morning, you’ll look out your kitchen window at the leaves turning gold on your maple tree and and think of our time together.