Thinking of You
Closing my eyes I see
the paraphernalia of your room
chair and table, pen on the table, the rustling white sheets written on or not
and spread in the room, touching the walls, shelves of books, poetry, woman.
Through the window, past the drawn curtain, Alice’s green garden.
You are looking out with softly smiling lips
I paint that looking-out of yours in my heart,
eyes brimming . . .
the white sheep standing for ever on the soft grass
I am walking step by step with you
on a path of red poppies, yellow flowers
your hand brushes mine
all this memory takes into itself, in quiet, unfading, your fragrance.