ADYNATON

A puff of air my love is nothing but;

The barest ghost of sentiment released

Once breath escaped, then mouth does quickly shut

The object of love feels nought but wind teas’d.

Such faintest whisper carried ‘cross the sea

Through night and day and all though reaches none

Its tendrils tickle, prod, caress, and flee

A want for all ‘cept for what could be won.

A silent roar my love does sweetly scream

Reverberating through that which none hear

The struggle fighting through such tight mouth’s seam;

Effective mute for that whose meaning’s clear.

That air which hides my love in arms so tight,

Will be the selfsame air that gives love flight.