You touch the lines upon your face
and lament the passing of the years.
You say you no longer recognize yourself,
and you scowl at your reflection in the mirror.
But the man I love is a map of time,
these lines the days I did not know.
As I learn each line,
I learn the man,
and I love him even more.

The last thing I will forget of you
are your hands.
They are beauty to me,
for all that they do,
for all that they are.
Strong when at work,
yet light upon my cheek,
there is no fear in their touch.
When near, I am safe,
for those hands can rescue me,
or just remind me you are close.
How precious your hands are to me;
they are all that I want in this life.

I dream of a place away from here
where we are both at peace.
Where spring days are filled with silence;
where wordless glances- tender touch-
are our only known languages .
I want to sense you, to know you beyond words;
I want to know the moment your pulse quickens
and your breath is stolen away;
the soft fanning of your eyelashes
just before you are overcome with sleep.
I want to count the dapples of sunlight
on your cheeks, cast through veils
of spring-green leaves.
I want to see you smile without worry,
without fear.

I love you.
Even though
you don't
know what
"U2" is.

???
.

???

. . .

!!!

!!!

??????

!!!!!

(...)

?

. . .

. . . .

(*)

If we could live in dreams
there would be no question
I meet you in my dreams
and all is well.
There, we are safe,
there we are together.
There my arms hold you
and nothing will take you away.

If I lost you tomorrow
if never you had really been mine
the moments we have shared
would still hold me for a lifetime.