βTo say she is only a woman is to say a violin is a piece of wood with strings, and Dante is mere ink printed on paper.β
βFor me,
you are fresh water
that falls from trees
when it has stopped raining. For me,
you are cinnamon that lingers
on the tongue and gives
bitter words
sweetening.
For me, you are the scent of
violins and vision
of valleys
smiling.
And still,
for me, your loveliness never ends.
It traverses
the world
and finds its
way back to me.
Only
me.
