but I have been to Kent,
back, thrown forth and back again,
so oft
that my words cannot
properly best
the nature of my
welling affection
sufficiently well

nurse us,
the world,
children, old souls, family,
in a big old house,
with poems of ribboned words,
that come daily(!)
like the sun riding up,
ending our days
with a sunset color collage
and always a
sweet good night
to her princes and princesses

unasked for, but so long overdue,
I over do what needs
not just saying,
but witnessing,repeating

this woman
upon who mine eyes have yet to
gaze,
yet upon me,
she has so oft touched,
grazed
with deft phrase,
poet alive read,
I have no need to go to Kent,
for she
thru words,
resides inside my humbled
palate of
poets admired...