Wednesday, September 22


As i went down the hill along the wall
there was a gate i had leaned at for the view
and had just turned from when i first saw you
as you come up the hill. we met. but all.

we did that day was mingle great and small
footprints in summer dust as if we drew
the figure of our being less than two
but more than one as yet. your parasol
pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
and all the time we talked you seem to see
something down there to smile at in the dust.

I want you to feel
as you wear a shirt,
or the watch that you wear around your wrist.
Comfortably, tho I shall make you smile always.

for thy H I 

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