Honey - Poem

Honey 

by Izabella’s heart

You call me honey—soft and low,

a name that makes my heartstrings glow.

It lingers like a lullaby,

a kiss of sun before the sky.

Like clover blooms in morning dew,

your voice feels tender, warm, and true.

Each syllable, a cozy thread,

that weaves a nest inside my head.

You're sugar swirled in chamomile,

a calm that stays a little while.

You're golden toast on rainy days,

and candlelight in gentle haze.

I keep your name like something sweet

tucked safe in pockets, small and neat.

I whisper it to stars above—

my honey, soft, my honey-love.

When winds grow cold and nights grow long,

you are my hush, my healing song.

When I feel small, unsure, or blue,

your warmth comes pouring softly through.

So hold this truth when skies are gray—

I'm never more than words away.

And should your heart feel far from me,

close your eyes, love, and you will see:

In every dream and melody,

you are my light, my remedy.

The sweetest place I’ll ever be?

Right where you say that word to me:

Honey.