Give me an unagitated evening,
where I could sleep-walk
under a light rose-petal sky,
and arrive at your door,
40 miles away,
just in time for dinner.
Give me an absorbing darkness,
into which we’ll melt together
and play like children,
lighting sparks with nictations,
accidentally singing our fingers,
and cooling them with laughter.
Give me a Colorado morning,
where I could see the mountains
from my room - the golden light
filtering through the mist
like a snow globe, illuminating the peaks
where you could be beheld
like Beatrice, by her Dante,
for the thousandth first time.