Tree leaves shake, dancing for my eyes.
Many trees have come
before and will come
after
the most beautiful leaves have fallen
from the one in my kitchen window.

All the winters that have been and gone
taint nothing about
this particular
one
as it blows across the skylight
of my tiny, windowless room.

So why do I pine inside
to be special within
to be the only light
shining upon
your eyes
as they happen to focus on my body
tracing my face in the lamp's shade.

Like the winters, I have come
blowing across your dimmed sun
not the first
may not even be
the last
but I am here, now. With you.
in this room with too many small cupboards
and the smell of a growing familiarity.