Waiting, or am I?

Some questions, soft as silence...

"What's your favorite flower?"
"What color do you love?"
And, "That habit—the one without which your day feels incomplete?"

Tell me,
"Which path could you walk for hours without growing tired?"

Can you say?—
"Mountains, or the sea?"
"Stillness, or a gentle breeze?"
"A beloved face, or some sweet old memory?"
"When exhaustion comes, what do you most long to do?"

Now, tell me,
"Do you still wish to come home?"
"At what hour do you grow most melancholy?"
"Do you love rain, or poetry?"
"Tea, or coffee?"
"Songs, or books?"
"Solitude, or the soft embrace of someone dear?"

One more question—
"Do your sorrows never take a holiday?"
"Are you still afraid of the dark?"
"Does anyone still hold you close?"
"Do you still carefully cradle your griefs to your chest?"

Tell me...
"Fragrance, or touch?"
"Waiting, or me?"

Are you listening?
I've brought some gifts for you—
will you keep them near?

This tree you see—
its name is 'Sigh.'
This box—
it holds 'Imagination.'
And this letter...
written here—
my address.