To you, with love

In the early pre-dawn hours 
there is nothing I hear
but your voice,
whatever I look for is you.

Source-Internet. Drawing by Federico Garcia Lorca 

You dance in my chest
often throb and pinch.

You-
A wide sky
A breathing star
I could watch again and again
And never get enough of.

You-A fathomless river
once drowned
it's escape impossible.

You-
A fine art
Of many complex things
put in a thin sack! 

You, a calligraphy
A wished-for song
can read and recollect.