inner rooms

There's something quietly romantic about the thought of you.
The halls of my mind, my inner rooms, become porticos, breezeways.
I become large, doors to you opening, I realize my space and my
potential and connect with you in the very stillness of our words -
and real distance, and real time, and all the corporeal distractions
that people think should matter more, tend to melt away - our bodies
melt away as we become just voices, spirits, ideas, imaginings,
perfect golden beings walking hand in hand along the sunlit
porticos and breezeways that link my inner rooms to yours.