This Morning's Breeze Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

IAM
born to be
to rush, to receive
every touch of soul and
summer's depth from you.
IAM the sun's rising warmth at
dawn, above all feelings, floating and
dying while the darkness is still holding the
morning, weeping traces of this new day's heat
drunk on harmonies illusory of the past day's dusk.
IAM, the heat in your eternal shining, the embers of
laughter beckoning lonesome romantic kisses waiting
on the floating glow of sunrise; while someone just as
blind as we, sways this morning's breeze.