#the lovers

(I dreamed the snow was you, when there was snow)

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there is a fragrance about her that is lovelier to me than meadows of sun-dried hay,

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He heard what her eyes said to him from beneath their cowl and knew that in some dim past, whether in life or revery, he

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How many afternoons have I spent peeling blue paint from our porch steps, peering above hedgerows, the few parked

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embracing your shadow in a dream my bones arched like flowers.

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They were two very separate beings, vitally connected, knowing nothing of each other, yet living in their separate ways from

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I want her to imagine our scandalous days in Odessa when we will open a small sweets shop—except for her lovers and

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Nothing is ever as beautiful as the first isolated moments with someone who might be able to love you — with someone

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I am totally elsewhere. I will arrive there, you try too.

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…your voice, the colour of a cautious dawn.

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I first felt hopeless admiration when I watched him come off the court after a game of tennis, pulling off his shirt as

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