“...your memory is a warm stone hidden in my hand I'm always turning over...”

“...I prefer rain -sometimes I feel sunlight will turn me to stone - perhaps I'm a Troll...”

“...my heart is a desolate field over which geese vee, the sky turns and the days lie fallow...”

“...I wish I could tell the tale of your beauty as my rough hands caress your face...”

“...with you, I'm always on the verge - feeling dizzy like looking at waves - and you, my Love, make me tipsy...”

“...every time I look at you autumn leaves come in between - does it matter they're the color of your hair - or they still fall in my memory?...”

“...in India ink your writing is lovely, but not as lovely as your hand - it is your hand - I know your hand - it fits so well in mine ...”