Architecture Of Love

I can't spell rhythm

architecture is your body folded into mine,
each scale of skin synchronized unseen;
nature's elements cold and hot to the touch;
apparent beauty our state of mind, entangled.

a song scatters in the distance. we love,
and love abstract. I can't spell rhythm. I
taste it, though, and steal away your lyric.
some hear the wind, others the grand scheme.

Photos/Poem © 2014 Rick Burnett Baker