My Soul Is Music Poem by Maria Ilieva

The night.
The shadows paint in purple
and bloom of edelweiss
sprinkles in you.
With yearning, like a wind
I bury my fingers into your hair.
And a groan escaped my lips
taken by the lips taking sip of me,
burning like a spring.
The silence embraces you in a look,
to a pain the shared night
paints a sunset
quiet tenderness…
The moon throws a veil over -
and I touch you with my hair.
With the thrill of a virgin,
taken the pitchers
to the well,
to you,
I am painting, like a field
longing for its rain.
And I am entwining my fingers into yours,
I am getting lost into your eyes – sky…
The whiff starts playing the violin quietly,
my soul is a music
if the notes are written by you.