As we are sitting still, summer goes by,
And you and I are by the water. Here
We mostly think of how we fell in love.
Portside, by wave, and sun, and drink, and sweet.
The chill grows heavy. I drawl you to me
And think small winter thoughts, and you are calm.
Steady lover, soft roots grown deep and strong,
And far from me. I’m prone to flight for fear.
Yet still, I’ve read maps long enough to know,
The river opens where we met. So wings
Turn to follow different paths. You've gone
Back home, to valleys higher than my own
Naive to the design of the river
Or how it made convenient paths. On Which
They built the freeways I would fly to reach
Your door, again, every new moon or so.
Feb 14, 2024
Feb 14, 2024 at 5:10 PM UTC
As we are sitting still, summer goes by,
And you and I are by the water. Here
We mostly think of how we fell in love.
Portside, by wave, and sun, and drink, and sweet.
The chill grows heavy. I drawl you to me
And think small winter thoughts, and you are calm.
Steady lover, soft roots grown deep and strong,
And far from me. I’m prone to flight for fear.
Yet still, I’ve read maps long enough to know,
The river opens where we met. So wings
Turn to follow different paths. You've gone
Back home, to valleys higher than my own
Naive to the design of the river
Or how it made convenient paths. On Which
They built the freeways I would fly to reach
Your door, again, every new moon or so.
An Older poem I wrote for My Love
