Heaven is here
concealed in my effort to make you mine

in the tea the boss offered me
while my freezing hands were feeding cars with gasoline

in the snowball you casted at me

in my naughtiness to get wet while playing by the sea
despite your whining to keep my self dry

in the murmur of the wind through the tree-leaves

in the waves breaking by the shore

in the frosty summer lager

in your warm body
and in your complaint about your chilly butt

in the sunset

in the sunrise

in the crescent moon
being filled by my effort to make you mine.