Dear Monteria

Dear Monteria,

I’ve never felt the tread of your exotic streets,
nor the pulling anguish of time’s cruelty,
yet love is a telepathy all its own.

Every fragrant roll of a tongue;
every sway of steps to a rhumbaed internal beat;
every flourishing maelstrom of emotion—
ripens a mind to the womb of your beauty.

Somewhere you stir in far off splendor,
tasting a panoptic wonder divorced
from the skeleton songs Americana.
What chorus flows in your veins?
For an endless canto viscerally beckons.

You’ve bestowed a most wondrous gift,
a being sui generis.
Would that I could repay,
award kingdoms and treasures,
yet all I’ve to offer is a beating heart,
too-tired hands, and a promise of fidelity.

Until the day we finally meet,
have no fear for the treasure of your city;
she remains divine, safe-guarded,
a true testament to your beauty.

Love