an influx of influences inculcated

[Kailashana]

circular motions
this penning of poetry...

when our fingers touch
the flame ignites
and creation is reborn,

expressed like mother's milk,
an aria my mother sang
to a distant sea.

I comb my hair
with a jagged edge, with a siren's
love song, I call to you and you come
with a bouquet of poems.

The sound
of leaves falling breaks the distance
with sunrise and my eyes have seen
Your glory.