Cayenne Butter

Every morning,
I hear the banana trees swaying
in the Jamaican winds
and the bubbling up of the frothy sea
upon the Island shores
when you call my name
in your raspy, masculine manner
and in your accent that is so earthy and unique to you
then you talk to me about how you prayed
thanking God for finding me
and although I had forgotten him for a sentence
it is through you that we have found acceptance
and I am now able to reclaim his presence
when I hear your words,
“i want to romance you”
it has my psyche spinning like a weavers wheel
you are romancing the romanticism loom
deep within me
reigniting
spinning
creating
admiring
loving
possibilities are possibly
wading on the horizon of the orange sun
kissing the bluest half moon in the distance
while I keep picturing your dimply smile
and brown skin toothed grin
you are beautiful man, with a more gorgeous soul
and you are sweet to me like cayenne butter

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