Apple trees
bow silently,
& meadows
burn evening
green. You
strolled out
of a dream
into my life.
Paintings wait
for your eye.
Bricks wait
for your feet.
The city desires
what I desire -
that you come,
& live with me.
The swansies
have had you
long enough -
let me have my
turn. I've placed
a bookmark in
my life, turned
down the corner
of the page.
I walk the same
circles, past the
same apple trees,
the same meadows,
but I'm only
half in it.