I want you to write me
A poem and serenade me
Like bygone days

I will wake up with snow
Reflecting blue on white ceiling
And hear your rough voice

Singing the ordinary, you,
String and brown parcel paper
And tingling goosebumps

Savage exultation of
Lighting a match, watching
Life in the flames

And your footfalls on sodden
Loam, saturated with
Glorious joy.