Candelina poetry

By the side of glassed window hot hot coffee with more caffeine against me and an ordinary coffee at my table, You are colored with imperfect mixture of the milk  and I the coffee waits to mix within you, The world looks winter through my eyes on the wooden chair at the café and the weather looks autumn , I feel wet by the chilly eyes of you and I feel summer by the touch of your Dutch fingers It isn't magic but I died again and again inside the brownly colored eyes and I get rebirth through the lips of Cherry red , It's just us through the winter under the stars and beneath the hardly woollen blanket, You have a body of the independent paints mostly gold and I want to caged into it till the time freeze, You the three word poem echoes in the night and the day like a lost sound of a magicians whistle in the early jungle, And I get lost into a poem by the name of you.... candelina