Howard Firkin
You cause the day. Your cloudy mornings kiss
my eyes, your soft grey light upon my lips;
the bed clothes stroke my skin like fingertips;
your body warmth is mine, and yours is this:
the sunlight seeping past an edge of curtain.
You populate my garden, morning Eve,
with many-jointed-legged things that spin
and crawl and fly and spawn like thoughts within
a dozy head, like kisses that you leave
on sleeping lips, like something vague and certain.
Your breath is breathing through my lungs;
I feel your gentle rhythm in my heart
and hear your song sung on a thousand tongues
and join the song. You cause my day to start.
my eyes, your soft grey light upon my lips;
the bed clothes stroke my skin like fingertips;
your body warmth is mine, and yours is this:
the sunlight seeping past an edge of curtain.
You populate my garden, morning Eve,
with many-jointed-legged things that spin
and crawl and fly and spawn like thoughts within
a dozy head, like kisses that you leave
on sleeping lips, like something vague and certain.
Your breath is breathing through my lungs;
I feel your gentle rhythm in my heart
and hear your song sung on a thousand tongues
and join the song. You cause my day to start.
