Wanting, Wanting Not

someone like her
to share, and to hold
to tell, how much
I would like to say
that love is not enough a word
not having the fullness
the color of the day, the rainbow
after the storm, the light of the sun
glancing atop the mountain spires
the cool meadow grasses, the rushing river
the quiet of the evening stars, the rush of the wind
the storm, lashing out and drowning my words
my touch will have to suffice, to feel along the lines
the curves and the impressions, that she had given me
her words, paling at the thought of the mere word, called love
the running of the race, your chest heaving and falling, the sweat
running along the glistening edges, the sound of your heart beating,
the word, called love, never spoken, never felt, as if it wanted, wanted not
wanted to say, much more than other words could
the length of your smile, the drowning of my passion in your sweet waters, the sounds of the morning dew, forming on the warming grasses, the heavens alight, with ruffles and flourishes, the cry of the birds, gracing your skies, asking, wanting to say, more than the mere words

-mere words