I am your lover, yet many days go by and we don’t even touch, nor breathe each others breath. And yet again, across them all, as through a moving wall we glance and see the one most precious of any face that’s there, the one true day-flower gliding in its own power.
Tomorrow, meetings are done, speeches are over. A lot of laughing goodbyes, then out and gone. And then, we’ll be alone, the whole stage ours. Oh, what will be your lines? What, indeed, mine? We’ll have our heads together; our lips will touch, and to no audience we’ll say, “No rush.”
Then you, perhaps, in fullest joy will cry, “I am your lover, let no seconds by!”