Wednesday, October 05, 2005


To think absence

may make the heart swell,
enlarging with hope.

Six months, two changes of season,
the new weather. Love is
to anger as care to scorn.

To think that I could have
such disorder. For
there is a clock and a ruler but

Mine are broken. I have not yet
fixed them. But like the fox
I have perfected my form.

No comments: