you are sunlight, filtered golden  through a gauze of clouds
unhurried, the tension  of a bowstring, a rock in a stream  you
are warmth on my face and soft rock on the radio  a puzzle, a
softball-sized knot to unravel,  a coarse, steadfast  intricate
design  you are not my breath, but the warmth  of the air I
breathe.  you are a gated path, the joy of the journey,  a
destination, not mine  I ache for you but  do not pine.