I love to hold your eyes in mine, like hands.

To count each blink and keep mine very few.

I see myself, a pale pepper-pot girl

Who made a home within the sight of you.

 

I love to hold your hands in mine, like jewels,

Skin as cotton, brown like rum. Warm as June,

I would I’d wear you through the yellow months,

Take you off on white wintry afternoon

 

To have you by me. Darling, think we thus;

We are milk and coffee, cream and rum. Oh,

What a mix of luxuries, what great wealth

Does mingle when this trembl’ing close we come!

 

I love to touch your face to mine, like birds.

A gravel nest atop a city church

Does seem a sweeter home than that in which

Our hands and skin are pulled beyond one hair.

‘Tis mine own selfish Soul that thinks it fair

In asking – for your Heart, I would so dare.

 

via I love to hold your eyes in mine, like hands