La

Sweetly slumbering,
Slipped away,
She has saved her smile for the casual crooner
Of alternate evenings,
However the silence of truth—
A tiger lily fire
Amongst the doorstep of our home

Has given me the blue-grey paling eyes of a mysterious artwork,
Or the feminine lips which purse together
A pressed smile spread like lilies
In the pools of such
Sad, sad eyes.

Lips, teeth,
A crinkled face
Where the rain has
Spattered freckles. In the blind nights
Of winter two bodies are made
To share a bed.