You were sweet and you were warm

My entire career sleeping in a bed,

I keep my silence

She taught me to love onions:

I am like

lake and sky gradually darken.

The spring of innocence glistens in your hair,

Long thin branches

This morning

Three girls blowing bubbles by the sea hundreds of bubbles playing in the breeze fragile, crystal globes innocent, playful, ephemeral...

It was two-thirty on a morning back in sixty-four, and we met in a small hall between our rooms. She stood robed with hair fanned over...

Something

There is a legend of a bird

As the pigeon streaks through darkened skies

When I carried you,

Today you'd be one hundred and three.