Swimming Lessons

I could write a poem
about the smell of your hair, but
I have not smelled it yet
I imagine
it is something like
almond oil and rosemary
or perhaps autumn air

it is a relief
to look into your
eyes, like answers
for which I have
been searching

and there is a shade
of chestnut color that fills
my ears and nostrils, it radiates
from your ends and edges, and I
would need swimming lessons
to navigate the space
behind your eyelashes
without drowning

even if we never touch
lips or graze fingertips again
it will be breeze-fresh and cooling
to remember the sway
of your hair, and to imagine
how it might have smelled
against my skin