if i give to you a universe,
you said to me this morning-
what would you fill it with?
a blank universe,
you coaxed me this morning-
tell me what i'd see.
i said, unwillingly at first-
i would not take your universe
not your gift to give...not your stars.
i would not take your universe
if you gave it on
bended knee.
-but if i had a universe,
a blank universe i'd fill it
with ecstasy storms
and kissing maids romping
with bright hued braids twirling
and child's first prayer that electrifies grass blades
and butterscotch ice ponds
and fields of wildflowers
and books lining roadways and
words raining sideways-
with
trains running backwards and
time moving slowly
with music for dinner and
dancing for sadness
with
lovers and mothers
and
magic
and
you.
perhaps i said,
as i rolled close in the sheets
i'd just fill it with you and i-
and i would love you when the sun
did shine
and when the sun
did not.
and i would love you when you closed your eyes
and i would love you as you wept.
love you as you walked
toes tickling my ground and sand
and i would love you when you sneezed
and as you sang
        and as you aged.
and i would love you
sleep
to
sleep-
my tiny universe to keep.



sahn
11/19/2014