Friday, January 29, 2010


You were my warrior and I your lonely wife
at the window. You were my farmer and I
the basket, the crushed grapes, the ripe fermentation.

You were my tailor and I the seam, you my
cobbler and I the sole, you were my waiter
and I the lady at table, lean and flushed

with the touch of the sun, desiring cool
drinks or ices to quench my thirst. You were
the engineer and I the gleaming parts, the roar

of the engine, the twist and fit of the cogs.
You were the angel and I the prayer, you
were the jester and I the riddle and song.

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