As some
unseen hand
collected up
corpse dreams
in the early morning
hours
it occured to me
to reach in
to the basket
of hours
by the bed
and retrieve this
for you
I know
I won't get it right
I make your eyes
too green
your lips
too full
and your hair
electric amber
whatever that means
so let me
instead
tell the story
once more
the snowy morning
when I thought
you wouldn't be there
breakfast
then the weekend market
when you bought
the morning glory seeds
the cold windy walk
to Morris for a magazine
and then the kiss
spontaneous and sweet
I know
it's a bit pat
but I don't think
there's anything
I missed
besides
you have to leave something
to the imagination
something
for unseen hands
to take away.
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