I know you. Yet it feels so strange
to know you after so few days
together. And with so few hours,
we've gathered words, like "us" and "ours;"
now living, many hours apart,
is living, as with broken heart.
How strange, to be at once at one
and 'stranged; be knit and yet undone;
to be a lover and alone;
to be alive and yet a stone.
Your eyes are stormy; mine are calm,
but eyes are seldom proper balm.
Yet can you say, I know you not?
or can you argue I've forgot-
ten anything, of so few days?
If some something has slipped away
from memory, it be the time
when poems (mine) had not two rhymes.
By metaphor, I mean to say,
that it is more than all the days
before, to have you now, at last;
it's more to me than all the past.
Though fewer days apart were kind,
if you'll be mine, I shall not mind.