Thursday, February 9, 2012

Poem #5

This is her face. Stand still, my love,
Let me nose the neck,
And hair the shadowy Brow
The shapes I memorized long ago.

The Youth and Age meet in the middle
Below the lipping cheeks,
Like cats, hiding under a mattress,
But heard purring from the chin.

Here twirls the fuzz to the nape;
There the fabric ears the neck,
Over which I palmed my soul with thee,
O sweetest of my life!

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