I see nothing but your glowing face,
Across our decorated dinner table,
Under a moonless starlit sky,
In the backyard of our ancient house.
In that pitch darkness,
Comes a star falling,
As if to see you, celestial,
Dining with a mortal.
The rain comes down
To gives us a fleeting visit,
Bringing with it the smell
Of wet mud and wet hair.
The wind whispers the most
Private of secrets from your heart
Secrets I already know
And secrets you’d want me to.
As you tuck your hair behind your ears,
Your eyes call out to me silently
While the farm horse surrenders to sleep,
I blow the last candle off.
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