Early light in gold,
fresh hay in the dew gloss:
teardrop aquarelle,
outlining our hands' depart
as, still, i watch your sleep, quiet.

.
So afar and tall are you to me,
For you are from shining mountains,
Higher than the clouds, your brow,
Darker than the heavens, your hair.

So small and fey am I to you,
For I am but lone whisper in glens,
Slight as one firefly on the moors
And my reflection but a tiny glow.

    Only to spark at edge of pools dark,
    Only to fly when in harnessing arms.

I crossed a bridge to be with you,
The streams slipping times away,
Beneath my girlhood, all in a rush,
Then I entered the deepest wood.

So small and wan was I to you,
For you are from snowy mountains
And I am from rain-watery glens,
For you are portrait and I bokeh.

    One day the woods engulfed me strong,
    One night the bridge I crossed was gone.
.

Jump
Don't think
Darling.

I want you heart and soul and body and tongue

The moon is under-rated.