The sun’s great burst has kept your room in shade.
The fog forming on the cliffs
could supplant any old beauty below
with either daffodils or poison ivy.
So you must close your eyes now and listen for
the heart-pounding sound of the woman who lives in you.
We are not all actors turned to cynics on the stage.
Some feet will fit the shoes of another
and some eyes will just see through morning dew
to what is due in old age. You can’t turn off the light.
You will not die tonight, only sleep together as one:
one will, one heart, one mind, one ingenious lie:
the best books are old books—
the books that are made to get old,
the books that get old and cracked
the books that get dirty with coco powder,
yet maintain a certain friendliness,
to get dog-eared again
by someone who wishes to return again
to find that exact quote as the fog forms,
and the daylight turns slowly into shadows.