lights at length dull,
the power, perhaps low, failing,
someone coughing out of sight,
the mutterings of rolling leaves
a loneliness now commonplace,
a scrawny yellow cat rubbing
against your exposed calves
in this season of dying,
infertile shadows across the burn
of your wordless face
somehow endless in the advancing night,
your gentle hand suddenly within mine
all the pleasure I have ever known
through the birth of blossoming desire