Dearest you, through me

I'm not able, I'm unable to grasp on thin air,
In the realm same as you.
Here, I spend my time like—
“Why would the roots search for ground?”
I asked, with hope to see the seed sprout out.

For I remember your last baby picture.
You remembered.

To you through me, I say, it ain't that thick.
To me through you, I think, you wrote in crimson.
Then there, if I take your strings to sew in the sky,
I'll bring blue berries to turn you into a pretty purple.
Don't look at me like a ghost, don't do.

Dear you, if I let myself weep, will you choose to—
Take me from cruelty and let me happen in memory?

Dear you, I say to the caterpillars, apples and gardeners— we don't go as far as we wish.
Dear you of everybody, dear pirates and queen.
All I know of you is that I love you.
Here, in here, nobody's crude, for each piece though you.

How much it makes me become your noon.

Dear you, I yearn too.
Though I'm late to confess, I yearn for you.

O! My apology.
O! My heart has been with the heart of yours.
Through me to you, please look outside your gate.
I wrote so you read, I stood so you see.
You, my dearest poetry.