A. Gene Childe writes

Heart at Work

Only at this moment, it may well be, 
   with your hair and voice fresh in my head, 
But I can think of nothing more welcome
Than the feel of your breath and warmth 
   in my starving arms.

To awaken, one night, one dark 
While you’re asleep and ungarbed beside me; 
One dawn, one Saturday morn: 
Your smile my sunshine, your touch my feast, 
   your laugh a songbird on the window.

Some days returned to the work 
   and world and turmoil, 
To see you in another stunning outfit, 
Knowing I watched it wrap you, 
Knowing what realms it covers.

While still I rest now, one moment more, 
   in distracted dreaming reverie, 
Outer focus masking inner tides, 
I think I know how your midnight whisper 
   might sound and feel and kiss.

I bet I could grasp the secret 
   of the notes that fill your songs; 
Recognize at once your brushstrokes; 
See blindly the marble you’ve shaped, 
   like the whorl of stars on your skin.

When I pass you in the hall this morning, 
   and as afternoons wane to eve, 
I don’t mind you smile as you name me; 
The glint in your eyes is reminder 
   you're keeping this secret too.
 
 Secret Meeting -- Dim Safonsky