You Make Me Love Poetry

If hands outstretched

Could cross these highways,

Then surely these restless nights

Would be spent with tea,

Hand holding, and stripping down

To tattered nylons and bed-shorts

Watching October breezes

Blow crisp curtains and,

My hair

Unruly but always yours to hold

And brush past weary lips,

Temptatious freckles, and

Only accept this road between


With outstretched hands.