She breathes with white water.

The sound of your voice trails whispers on a thick salty wind. I smell you drifting through the window on a breeze that has crossed the ocean. You come from the north, like the heat from the stars; and now I see you lighting in my eyes.

I am looking deeper and you become a soft brush against my arm in the crowd of the markets. You become the quiet chaos of the city around me. You creep into my ears and fill the dreams of those you've never met with your music.

You are here and I feel it. I find you in the sweetness of wild Moroccan honey and the bite of each spice the shopkeeper opens for my nose. I find you in the eyes of the street ravers and the curling smoke of the dark Moroccan hash.

Each night I meet the sea and dip my toes in under the moon. I feel you crashing in the waves and know that you will meet me in the current. And again, there is that breeze that travels from in from America; your scent is on that wind.