My wife, your hands they fly
From my eyes into the day
where the last sunshine
touches my face in throbbed
Turquoise where the ocean
Meets the sky in barenaked syllables
A flower petal found of sunsets
My wife, we live together in
A honeysuckle celestial capsule
Absolutely in our own world
My wife, how the darkness has
Swallowed us in the mercy of
her closed wings of grandiose shelter
My wife, I love to watch the
miniature empire of your face
With the characteristics of my
eternal notebook, the lift of perfume
and laughter, the garden-dream
of your tenderness of blue material
Where life seems prosperous & lucky
My wife, the last crazy sunbeam
Of my open heart, has arrived in your form
As the flare of corn in the soil
Or the gift of rain to the natural world.
Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/candle-for-every-soul-102428705
Wuji Seshat 
“Live to watch the miniature empire of your face with the characteristics of my eternal notebook…” Wow! seeing the world and forever in all that she is, written in her expressions. And all that you never want to forget. Fantastic!
Reblogged this on tothetable.
Beautiful.
You have such a beautiful way with words Wuji:
‘My wife, the last crazy sunbeam
Of my open heart, has arrived in your form
As the flare of corn in the soil
Or the gift of rain to the natural world.’
Thanks Helen, it’s daunting to try to formulate love into words. But sometimes the effort feels worth it.