The roots of love have no tongue

It's spring and a man branched out of my heart

Green, green, like hope, nature, and art

Organically, he enamered me with his elucubrations

One love, two nations. 

It must have been his sweet amber eyes

or the morphemes of his lines.

This poet carried love as a message,

 A Prophet to my life.

He had a lonely hand 

With poems and rhymes making a stand.

But no words were needed

When our fingertips kissed, new life was seeded.

His energy and mine easily flow,

From far away I could see his aura glow.

Thank you cosmos or any form of God

For this harmony to my life you have bestowed.

Scented souls attracted,

Surrealism and love enacted.

Flirting of IQs.

He writes me haikus :)

Parallel lives braided 

By coincidentiality, destiny, or a wish habilitated.

Un sueño tal vez, de policromacias constantes.

Niño místico, niño mío, yo te conozco de antes.

¿Quién iba a pensar que te encontraría entre los anglo-parlantes?