Because You

Because you are music,

I sing you, even 

when you aren't here,

softly in memory.

Because you are wine,

you intoxicate me

slowly and smoothly,

the taste lingering.

Because you are ocean,

I bathe in you, plunge

and almost drown, then float

on your buoyant blue.

Because you are poetry,

I return to you again and again; 

you fill my mouth, 

I give you utterance, but –

Because you are mystery,

I cannot touch your core,

fathom your depths, recover 
from you, find your truest chords.

Written in response to Literary Excursions: human in terms of non-human 
at 'imaginary garden with real toads'.