açúcar

the crack of a whip
and a long road
winding past couples in conversation
willows and wooden benches
enamored by the sounds
of your voice
by the sea salted swish
swish, swish
long brown mane
porcelain white skin
your accent is foreign
to the words you speak
but your sound is a lullaby
as I lay in the arms of your words
drifting
forgetting
drifting.