I hold this cup, and sip from it, and sigh

My eyes water, as I read your words

My heart confused why water comes

When I am not sad


My heart is disoriented, as if being spun around

Dizzy, from your words, and voice like sweet syrup

I would lick from your lips and take you in

And the water comes, and washes through me


If I could, and one day I will

I will wash over you, you are my world

You will feel my rain, my ocean, and you will swim

In my lake, my lonely, lonely lake


I will become, like a road sign, your travelers will see

And when they see me here, I will become a passing marker

A part of your journey, parallel to mine, moving

Moving forward, your travelers will accept me as part of your

Landscape


I love you Christopher John Mazey