The clock tics slowly, softly

I melt into your
chocolate eyes

They always seemed
to dart swiftly to the
window, slitted in the
corners, drilled into the
palm of your face

Like almond slices in
a wood-carved bowl

Your hand touched the
chair- my chair
Oh God, my chair

Your hand swept the
stars- my stars
They belonged to me

Outside, the willows
bent lullingly to
your breath
They echoed the voices
of poets and flutes
and Irish skies,
dim and damp and
brilliant

I kept the poems
nestled beneath my
pillow at night
And under my tongue
in dimly-slurred thought

Your trail is old, but
my path is new

I glance to
the window-
The rain leaks the
tears that gleamed
in your
chocolate eyes

Now, they
gleam in mine

I shut the blinds

Like the rain,
you disappear