It should not matter. I have chosen this.
Ask nothing that I may not be refused.
Never feel pain, but rather be amused
to see love pass in moments, kiss to kiss,
lover to lover. I sit, watch her dance
She touches me in passing on the cheek
Inside was dry but floods, for half a week
eyes, feet half recall steps of past romance,
tears grow this seed. I see heart surface crack
along the lines of age. These verses flower
in bronze. Love’s the bright paper of an hour
that tears and blows away will not come back
except as echo. I would lose her young.
Old I can hold and touch her with my song.