Cold Air that You Feel

I am the boy in winds,
The cold air that you feel,
The taste on your lipids,
Less than musical fill,
The fragrance of flowers,
Seen by who won’t cower.

You delight in her work;
Black ink on rough paper,
Crafting sounds like that of orcs
With sweet words that taper,
Describing scents of wars,
But natural as stars.

I’m preparing my place,
Designing it with lace,
Beautiful like my face.

I will take her someday.
You’re going to lose her.
She’ll be gone from the day,
Away from her lover.
All you will be left with
Her works in length and width.

 
Note: The poem above is in response to the post on the NaPoWriMo website titled, “Day Twenty.” The optional prompt for us is to write from the voice of a family member. My poem is written from the voice of my late brother, Clarence Delfin.