A Love Letter
You will notice in me, when i return,
a slowness in rising from the couch.
And my heart may beat so you can see it
when from the room i walk along the lawn.
I will not hire Lee Kilzoy and his band
nor expect to dance snowflakes from the street
or drink the bourbon flagons until dry
when pink shows first above the cypress trees.
I do desire to sleep so near to you
your rounded shoulders fit inside my arm,
and warmly feel your hip against my thigh,
to see strands of your hair moved by breathing;
to live such love, as now consumes my heart,
made more precious in these vanishing days.