To call you my past, my present
To embrace you as times last;
To drown in your recent moments
To drink in the love of your past.

To be the mist of your sunrise;
To be the dew of your music,
To be poetic, and not to be poetic;
To be the avant-garde of thy skies.

To delight you, to call you home;
To make you my Northern Light,
To hold you through my day and night;
To sail through you with my poems.

To be your lullaby in mind;
To call you my own, just mine,
To be your moon, my Toronto;
To be your winter, your snow.

I saw you among realms of light;
In everlasting radiance gleaming,
With those twinkling seraphs at night;
And pink sonnets in the morning.

I loved you at the first of sights;
More greatly than all yon loving,
With my desires wrapt in blue sighs;
With aurochs and angels singing.

You held me close with temptation;
And as a first love ne’er drowns,
You are my last destination;
The only one to love, alone.

You startled me with sensation;
You conquered me and my half,
Painting me and my vision;
Dazzling me and my love.