Those Words

Those words that turn simple lovers into prophets,
they speak for the first time
and dawn breaks beneath the tongue,
like a communion wafer.

Honeyed breath falls in a cascade around them,
...and thus their cathedral is built.

Those words, like stone as old as age,
lay dormant within broken castles,
waiting for kings and queens to resurrect,
the fruit of every promise.

As morning is promised to every day,
dawn waits to break inside.

Lindsay Ronald