Conversations (V) — skin, to skin
I am the space before your voice is heard.
You’re the breeze that remembers every leaf’s name.
I am the weary road you know will take you home.
You are the river that sways the nimble oars.
A raspy sunrise. Whisper pleasant friction:
Your lips’ lines on my palm are not a fiction.
Translations from the English 
Beautiful. Bravo.
Thanks Emily!
I echo Emily: Beautiful.
Thanks, Len.