This wind, this space, these vacant rooms,
I leave behind.
I know no one will notice,
no one will mind,
and I will try to find the essence of the paper and the pen,
delve deep, stretch wide,
and when the work is finished,
I will lid my eyes, but not be blind again.
I would like to paint
on canvas sapphire shadow,
in one corner, a red violin,
almost in the middle,
a candle in a crystal holder,
lit for constancy and hope,
and though a climber without a rope,
find the place where all the stories begin.
Like a carving on a stone,
like a fresco on a tile,
I want to work with words
on something that will take more than a while.
And though you will never know,
on you my gift I will bestow,
for it is a fine thing a man can do,
to make a woman smile.