This is all I have to offer;
a few lines cribbed from richer times.
But when in the presence of your glowing face,
the whole of antiquity will be plundered.
How can there be an audit of your virtues?
As well survey the stars with a glance.
Moving through my mind's eye,
your lithe figure sweeps me up.
Sweeps me up into realms
I thought never to visit again.
Where you and I reign past the troubles
of young love and old pain.
This cold winter night our hands touch.
And that is all I can write about love.
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