Hold hands a moment, for a second touch
her cheek, picking a dead leaf from her hair.
Buy sweet red grapes for lunch, offer to share,
watch her mouth slowly crush them. It’s too much
to hope for more and it is quite enough
to have these things, to have but not possess
her love, luxuriate in the distress
of stealing moments. Fragile and yet tough
wisps of desire. Accumulate your joy
fragment by fragment. Never say a word.
She’s yours while she can say she never heard
a hint of what your actions speak. She’ll toy
with you a month. Ten years from now she cries
awake from dream of you, kissing her thighs.