The Heart of the Matter

to my Valentine:

Often flowers make me stay

by the way they hold their heads

at mid-day,

just like at night a gentle moon

calls me from my bed to sleep

less soon

by the way it's dressed, festooned

in clouds.

I cannot keep

These things I love, but they detain me.
I am bound

by the way my heart is tossed

and held aloft

while my quiet breath is lost, 

and found again.

By the way

 I love you