Through this window
poems gently drifted,
lovestaining paper
with the fresh morning
toffee color of your eyes,
and perfectly describing
pyramids of lovemaking
and the aftermath grave
silences we made embalmed
in the scent of our opposite skins.
Years later you are still
my sweetest dream
and I watch , by this window,
the rain distort the world
as it writes lines across the glass.
I force words on paper
and watch them fade within
scattered dark blotches.
Paper stains the same
with tears and rain.
DQ 02/22/07
