My generous and exuberant love
As the slow moon coldly slopes down the
sky
The pines hum to themselves and you to yourself
And you pass your
hands across my face.
My hands stray - stray? - to your breasts,
small,
such as angels probably are permitted.
You are forgiven, solely because of
them
For beating me at Scrabble.
Dear friend you cannot know
How much you fill my days - and the long
nights,
When outside the whole world is threatening silence,
The pine is
swaying in a senseless dream,
Your hand withing my hand, your warm body
Close by me, and in the dark your unseen smile.
