The sky

The sky runs through my veins like a dance on a glittering lace, like a question without answer about you and me, like an orchard that blooms every day. The thought of you makes me dance even more, makes me feel the snow again in my hands, forever in crystal dresses. We've never talked about winter, sweet children of waste, we've only rescued it with an endless kiss. You are my reverie a subsiding storm on a morning veil the last gondola of the air my northern sun my sonatine my sorrow.