I lie awake
on a rainy dawn
where hours ebb
as long as age.
And I thought of how
my love for you
got conceived.

Was it your hair?
Falling freely with gravity.
Who shines in almond
as light greets its
aromatic surface.
Whose scent placates
the toil of temper.
It mimics the residual aroma
of wherever we've gone;
reminding me of the places
we simply enjoyed.

Was it your eyes?
Who make servants
of the unbendable.
Sparkling in little shames
and emanating secret joys.
I can stare at them,
and they make cotton
out of my igneous armor.

Was it the tone of your voice?
Who combines compatible notes
and plays the song of joy.
If there'd be such one,
it would be that.
Who ceaselessly force a smile
on my face.
I ceaselessly wait
to have to hear it again.

Was it your exuberant youth?
Who gave a new vitality
in my once tedium life.
Who made young
an arthritic fellow,
and whose knees bend
only from your stare.

The rain has fallen again.
A prologue to a new season.
I fell in love during summer
That rain could not help me
find the reason.

I, here
lying half-awake.
About to enter slumber.
I fell in love with you first
during the summer.