and if i ever close my eyes to the gold
upon the melting back of a leaf then i
swear lady by all things which hold warmth
as their country then your eyes as yet
are finally become like transparent stars
unto the world of my stories so high yet
part of the firmament escaping from the
simplicities of my assuming their
gentle turning about the central one lives
a spoken relevance and never too soon
shall i open the shades and let in the
radiant light of your twisting fingers
watch silhouettes the outlines divide
i become the lightness the panes
remain cold their paint cracked and
parched listen to the wind my love
if the fabric of your skin were to
encompass the dust upon the sill i
should relay your holdings inside the
realms of that which is more than seeing
or speaking oh lady how i wish for the
complicity of our closeness to disappear
but absolution with you will amend this
particularity if only the light would
transport me to your arms and warmth
then winter would be a welcome thing