Words
Words 
bloom in desert
where a Poet's unceasing lips
trail Love. 
Love,
desert a blooming Poet,
and in his lips, they say,
words are nowhere.
Words
may even bud in February
while a Lover's determined 
lips search for Love. 
But now, 
that his lips and mine
are one, there are no better words
but,
"I Love You."